Crossroads
by Alina
Summary: Crossover WIP: There's a reason for everything, even why Salazar Slytherin lied to his friends.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Crossroads

**Summary**: There's a reason for everything, even why Salazar Slytherin lied to his friends.

**Fandoms**: Harry Potter, and Stargate: Atlantis (with guest stints by Stargate: SG-1)

**Spoilers**: Harry Potter - Everything up to Order of the Phoenix. For SG-1: late Season 8. For Atlantis: everything up to and including 'The Eye' and very vague ones to 'Before I Sleep'.

**Rating**: 13+ - It's like Star Wars, only with swearing.

**Pairings**: None. Fill in the blanks and make your own.

**Category**: Action, Crossover (and by extension, an AU)

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all of its appendages are copyright to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Stargate SG-1/A are copyright to MGM Studios, Gekko, and its cast and crew. References to other fandoms are absolutely intentional.

**Author's Notes**: The story is set just after the Atlantis episode 'The Eye' and uses a hypothetical sixth year for Harry Potter - not because I have something against Season 2 or the latest Harry Potter book, but because I would have to revise a lot of stuff to make the plot fit again to the newer parts of the fandom, which would only delay the fic even more. I'm sure there are references in here to later episodes and the later book nonetheless since I've been editing long after they came out, but they're not intentional. Please comment and criticize copiously.

I'd like to also send out huge thank-yous to my beta, teenmisfituk at livejournal, and to Imry, Andy, and Mia for cheering me on as I write this (and continue to do so at a very, very very slow rate). I hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

**1000 Years Ago**

Scotland, 994 A.D.

"_Fulmenos_ _venite!_"

An eruption of lightning burst down from the evening sky and cascaded down towards the earth. Down below, it struck in the vicinity of an armed Jaffa convoy as they herded a group of prisoners into a clearing. At the centre of the open space, at the top of a large mound, lay their goal.

A Stargate.

In hot pursuit of the convoy, but still some distance away, were four riders on horseback, two men and two women. They rode hard, urging their horses to cross through forest and shrubbery as fast as they could safely go, only upping the speed further upon entering the clearing a moment after the Jaffa.

Up ahead, the Jaffa leader cursed angrily at the sight of the pursuit.

"Kree, Jaffa!" he shouted, taking aim at the riders with his staff weapon, "Two of you to me! The rest get those Tau'ri through the Chaapa'ai!"

Instantly, his orders were obeyed. Two of the Jaffa joined their commander at the rear and immediately began firing at the incoming riders. The others kept the prisoners clustered together while an address was dialed.

The staff blasts sent dirt and debris up into the air, causing the riders' horses to shy off. One struck close enough for a horse to rear, sending its crimson-cloaked rider sailing into the air and back onto the ground with an unceremonious thud. Spitting the dirt out of his mouth angrily, he motioned to his companions.

"Stall them! Hurry!" he yelled.

Dismounting in one smooth motion, the other man planted himself firmly on the ground and stretched out an arm towards the convoy. As he closed his eyes in focus, his forest-green cape began to flap menacingly in the wind. Seconds later, his eyes snapped open, gleaming with vengeful intent.

"_Incendio_!"

A blazing wall of fire rose up right in front of the stargate, but was one second too early in appearing. The green-man's intent had clearly been to block passage to the gate once it had opened; instead, the event horizon of the wormhole exploded into being after his move, swallowing the fire whole in the process. The Jaffa wasted no time in herding their unwilling passengers through the wormhole as soon as the way was clear.

"No!" Green-man bellowed, furious at the prospect of losing their quarry. One of the remaining riders made a last-ditch attempt to loose a few arrows at the Jaffa, but her purple-painted darts bounced easily off their greyed armor. The chase was over.

The riding woman dropped to the ground and turned her horse loose to graze while she approached the 'gate, running one hand along the smooth naquadah rim, amazed at its very presence. From behind, Green-man skulked over, still angry, while the Crimson-cloaked man limped towards them with the help of the final companion, a tall, woman with golden hair.

"Curse those creatures! We lost them! Did anyone see the address?" Green-man asked.

"Yes," replied the archer, running a hand through her dark hair in frustration. She kneeled in front of Red-man and examined him for injuries. "I don't recognize the sequence, but it would serve little purpose even then. Wherever those people were taken, the Goa'uld are sure to outnumber us. The Council would never agree to send a rescue force, not now that they've placed a ban on the islands. You have a nasty burn on your leg Godric, but it's nothing serious. You should be fine with some rest."

"Thank you Rowena," Godric answered with a brave grin as he rose to his feet.

"At least we now know where they installed the Stargate. We should bury it immediately," the blonde noted, trying to uplift their spirits.

"I disagree, Helga," Green-man protested sharply.

"Are you mad, Salazar? There are only four of us. We cannot go back to Avalon or Azkaban now that the ban is in place, and we alone cannot defend this gate against one System Lord, let alone all of them! How can you-"

Godric cut her off abruptly. "Let us hear him out before we pass judgment. Please, go on my friend."

Salazar nodded, looking past his companions towards the horizon.

"I do not deny that you are correct, Helga. Out people cannot even control the problem we brought with us from Atlantis. They have chosen to seal it on one island and then retreat to another in the process, leaving us high and dry since we chose to ignore the ban. We are divided and weakened."

He stopped here to let his words sink in before breaking out his proposal.

"The gate is a gift. We should use it to contact the Goa'uld and form an alliance with them."

"Now I _know_ you've gone mad," Helga snapped.

"You do not trust my judgment?"

"_No_!" she crossed her arms and stood her ground. From the look on Rowena's face, she shared in Helga's misgivings, although not in her vehemency.

"Godric?" Salazar asked, raising an eyebrow.

Godric looked between him and the others before sighing and shaking his head. "I must concur with the others, Salazar. The logic behind your idea is most cunning, but my instincts tell me that we would not be able to hold sway with the snakes for very long. And once that happened, we would be at their mercy. It's too dangerous."

Salazar laughed. "I never thought that I would ever hear that coming from you," he observed wryly, "You're getting soft."

"To admit that we are few in number and to act accordingly is hardly a weakness," Godric argued, reaching forward to grasp Salazar's hand.

"Look, we need allies to deal with the Wraith in case they break free. Why not seek out the most powerful ones?" Salazar persisted. He wrenched his palm free and sneered. "There is nowhere else to look in any case!"

Helga cut in to offer an alternative. "Why do we not seek allies here? You look too closely at our own people, who have sealed themselves away, or at an enemy from the stars. But there are people _here_ that have the potential to learn our craft and take up our cause. I have seen them."

"You want to train _these_ primitive people?" Salazar repeated, aghast.

"Well, why not?"

"The potential is still random within them! It could take thousands of years before it starts to pass regularly through their bloodlines, save for those who have ancestors among our people! How could we be certain that their skill is great enough or that they could even consciously control it?"

Helga frowned. "Why do you keep making a distinction between them and us? They _are_ us!"

"I realise that! I simply believe that they are still too young to risk introducing them to our ways!"

The debate was getting far too heated for anyone's taste, but it seemed unavoidable. They were at a deadlock, and Godric scrambled to come up with a compromise.

"What about the children of our people that live among them? Would you object to teaching them?"he blurted out. To his surprise, Salazar didn't even have to stop to think about it.

"Of course not! What do you take me for? I would never abandon our people!"

"I'm sorry, it was not my intention to suggest that. But if this is so, then why do we not choose and instruct those in our own ways?" Godric boldly offered. "The important part is that we do this _together_. There is no greater strength we can have except unity."

Helga and Rowena nodded in agreement, seeing no need to voice any specific opinions that they had until Salazar responded. He considered the proposal carefully as he stared upwards at the night sky. The clouds generated from their conjuring had long since passed, revealing the brilliance of the stars and crescent moon.

"Very well," he conceded unwillingly, "but I will _never_ approve of mixing with our younger incarnations."

"That is your prerogative, Salazar."

"And what of the 'gate?" Salazar asked, bringing the topic of what to do with it back to the forefront.

"We will bury it here and build our school on top of it so that we never forget where it is," Godric decided.

As they retrieved their horses after adjourning the discussion, Salazar trailed behind, analysing the situation. He had not truly wanted to go along with Godric's plan. He thought it would prove to be folly in time. He also recognized that his disagreement was generating a rift between him and his best friend already, and he suspected that it would take some time to repair.

He would go along with this plan nonetheless. He could not make an alliance with the Goa'uld on his own. He was not a fool. Even so, now that he was left to his own devices, Salazar Slytherin formulated a plan to preserve and protect the Stargate in a more accessible area.

Just in case they changed their minds.

* * *

**4 Years Ago.**

A hundred feet below Hogwarts' school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the remains of the basilisk lay on the cold stone floor and rotted. From above, an ageing pillar, damaged by its release, finally crumbled once and for all, landing on the carcass and striking the remainder of its jaw, cracking the teeth. The acid innards came bubbling out and slid onto the stone floor, condensing together in an oozing black pool.

Over the next few years, the acid slowly would eat away at the limestone floor, eventually creating a hole.

Instead of exposing packed earth to the room, it opened to another chamber, allowing the first faint light the Stargate had seen in a thousand years to shine through.


	2. Meetings

**Meetings**

A galaxy away from Earth, on a planet few had taken notice of until recently, the lost city of Atlantis glistened in the sunlight of a blissfully clear day. Its inhabitants took advantage of the fine weather to perform repairs to the outer sections that had been damaged during a ferocious hurricane. Only a few days had passed since the storm had ravaged both the city and the mainland, but already the consequences of its passing destruction and the Genii assault that had accompanied it were abundantly clear to Major John Sheppard, Atlantis' ranking military officer.

The storm and Genii had cost them dearly. Not only had the infiltrators escaped with most of their medical supplies and explosives, but the storm had destroyed nearly all the crops on the mainland, planted by their closest allies in Pegasus, the semi-nomadic Athosians. As it stood then, the small team of explorers from Earth was now running on stretched rations in an attempt to support both themselves and the Athosians. It was a situation that would not last for much longer, and everybody knew it. The problem was, it was hard to find friends in a galaxy when they had accidentally awakened its most feared enemy.

John had come to despise the Wraith with a passion he never thought possible. Never in his entire lifetime had he even entertained the thought that he would one day be protecting an ancient city and gateway back to Earth from a race of aliens that sucked the very life out of you. The horrifying tales of cullings, passed through survivors in the Athosian band, had made his skin crawl. And he had helped awakened them from their slumber.

Even so, the Athosians had been remarkably friendly with the Earth team, particularly their leader, the graceful Teyla Emmagan. She was continually optimistic that their two groups would together be able to make ends meet, brushing off John's guilt with a brave and daring smile whenever he brought it up.

"Disaster strikes us sometimes, John. If it were not now, it would be later. If it were not this, it would be something else. We cannot always stop it from occurring, but we can choose how to face it, and I choose to face it with your people. Do not dwell on this guilt. It's needless," she had explained to him once.

John sometimes wondered if Teyla had been honest when she had told him this, or had simply not wanted him to worry about it. He had known her for only a few months, but sometimes he felt he knew her better than people he had known since childhood. Other times, Teyla was still a complete mystery to him, choosing to act in whatever way she felt would benefit her people and Atlantis the most. In that respect, she was no different from John's only superior officer in the expedition, Dr. Elizabeth Weir.

All in all, John's only regret in joining the expedition to the Pegasus galaxy had been their inadvertent awakening of the Wraith. He had no others; Atlantis had changed everything in his life, including the way he understood himself. You seemed to gain a new perspective of life when you learned that an entire network of wormhole-generating gates and alien beings existed all over the Milky Way and beyond, and that you were tied to it all through a rare gene that allowed you to use the technology of the gate-builders. Overall, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else at that moment.

Okay, perhaps that was being a bit too generous. He loved Atlantis' crystalline mass of spires and walkways, and he loved being there, but he didn't like being perched on the tip of one of the taller towers, at least not without restraints. No, he'd very much prefer to be sailing effortlessly through space in a Puddle Jumper, sparring with Teyla on the mainland, or just exploring the city.

Sheppard fumbled with a penlight he had brought with him and stuck it up a small shaft that all his attention was focused on. He tried to get the light into a good position with one hand, angling this arm awkwardly and the other accordingly to maintain his balance on the angling tower and peered into the shaft.

Bright white glinted off a mass of gleaming wires, each the thickness of a hair. John knew that normally they should have been pale blue and purple, but instead, this particular section phased gradually into a dull grey, and in some spots was black like onyx.

"Bingo," Sheppard muttered to himself as he surveyed the damage. A quick glance upward displayed the source of the destruction: a smoky black mark further up suggested a small explosion of sorts. Ancient technology was very resilient, able to remain functional for millions of years under the proper conditions, but it wasn't indestructible. John couldn't help but feel that these particular pieces weren't salvageable. But what had caused the explosion itself? Had the lightning strikes caused this? If not that, what did? Nothing came to mind, but Sheppard knew of a way he might be able to find out.

He stuck his penlight back into his pocket and moved his free hand to a faintly glowing knob on the back end of the shaft. It reacted immediately to his touch, beeping softly before creating a holographic menu for him to peruse. He tried to find a log menu with his thoughts, but after a few minutes of wandering in and out of sections of unreadable Ancient (he knew the runes related to Puddle Jumpers best; everything else about the language was beyond him, other than the fact it was very much like Latin). John squinted at the various unknown symbols, trying to get a vague idea of their meaning.

_McKay to Sheppard, is it fixed yet!_

The loud interruption blared into Sheppard's ear and broke his concentration. Startled, he lurched suddenly and reached for the top of the access panel to regain his balance. It gave way and slammed down on his other arm, which was still half-inside the shaft.

"Ow! Geez!" he yelped as he struggled to wrench it free. Meanwhile, McKay droned on, oblivious to Sheppard's injury.

_Major, are you there? Hello? Yoo-hoo! Oh, sure, fine, ignore the scientist, why don't we! It's not like he's important in any way..._

John managed to free his trapped arm and hesitantly turned his microphone back on. "Yea, I'm here! Relax already!"

_Oh. Good. Well, is it fixed yet? Me and Radek still can't get the doors to move._

The major had to forcibly retrain himself from yelling at the Canadian. "No, I haven't fixed it yet," he answered tersely, "and frankly, I don't think I can. It's not a minor problem. There's some wires up here that seem to have overloaded and burned out from a lightning strike. You'll have to come up here yourself and have a look."

_What! I can't go up there! I told Elizabeth that the Jumper Bay doors would be fixed by the briefing this afternoon. I sent you to do it because I need to co-ordinate the repair from-_

"No, you sent _me_ because you're a chicken shit that's afraid of heights!" John answered hotly, trying to ignore the fact that even he was uncomfortable up there.

_Major, I resent that completely false accusation! I'm not afraid of a little climb onto a perilous Atlantean peak! I go off world all the time and face mortal danger with every step!_ Rodney fired back, a little too fiercely. John rolled his eyes.

"Yea, whatever you say. Look, I came up here as a favor to you. I can't fix the doors from here. Repairing this stuff isn't exactly my department, it's yours. So if you want it done? Suck it up and do it yourself."

_What! Come on Major, there's gotta be something-_

Ignoring his latest sprout of indignancy, Sheppard flicked his receiver off and rolled his eyes again. He'd had more than enough of the brash scientist for the moment. He'd listen to him rant soon enough during the weekly senior briefing. For now though, he chose to make his way back to the centre of the city with only the sound of the waves crashing against Atlantis to fill his ears.

* * *

Harry Potter was sixteen, exhausted, and upset. He was sixteen because his birthday had just passed less than two months ago; he was exhausted because his first day back at school had just ended, and he was upset because the day had been less than stellar. He hadn't expected it to be easy - five previous years at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and taught him that much - but it had still be far more than he had wanted to deal with. 

The smallest and most immediate problem had been his Potions class, or lack thereof. Harry didn't really want to take Potions in the long run. He hated everything about it, from the dungeons where it was held to the Potions Master, Professor Snape. But, he also wanted to become and Auror, and Potions was a prerequisite to applying. Not seeing the class listed on his timetable in the morning had been the first complication of the day.

He almost felt like laughing over the absurdity of it all. There he was, worrying about whether he could get into a class he didn't even like, while outside the protected grounds of the school, the most vicious wizard in living memory was on the loose with his entourage of destructive followers. Voldemort could be anywhere, doing anything…

And yet he had not been seen. With every attack over the summer, sightings of the other Death Eaters had abounded, but never the Dark Lord himself. For three months, the wizarding world in Britain had lived in a state of constant fear, never knowing where the Eaters would strike next.

Then, shortly after Harry had received his train ticket for the Hogwarts Express, the attacks had abruptly stopped. The Daily Prophet attributed it to the Ministry's vigilance, although few now believed it after they had failed to realise he had resurfaced in the first place. Like many others, Harry was certain that Voldemort's plans had changed, that he was up to something big. The only problem was, no one knew what. And when speculation had gotten old, Harry had returned his mind to school and its seemingly miniscule problems.

He found himself with a free period just before supper - the place where his Potions class would've been inserted, and decided to take advantage of it. Briskly criss-crossing the halls, Harry managed to catch up with his head of house, Professor McGonagall, as she exited the Transfiguration classroom, arms laden with piles of books and parchments.

"Potter, shouldn't you be on your way to a class?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and regarding him suspiciously.

"I have a free period, Professor. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Hmm." Her expression didn't change, but she beckoned to him to follow. "You'd better come with me then," she announced, pressing half of her book stack into Harry's arms with the unspoken request that he assist in carrying them. Caught by surprise, Harry wobbled with the sudden added weight and the books at the top of the pile toppled over to the ground.

He stooped down hastily to collect them and was surprised to find what appeared to be a smaller essay jammed into one of the volumes - a _Muggle_ one. There was no mistaking it; the essay was typed. It looked like any one of a dozen such documents his Uncle Vernon had brought home a million times. The title, however, assured him that it was no simple essay about drills.

_The Pyramids of Giza: Royal Tombs or Landing Platforms?_

_By Dr. Daniel Jackson, PhD._

Harry had to read it twice to be sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. It sounded like complete rubbish. But if it was, then why was McGonagall interested in it?

As they marched off towards her office, Harry scanned the rest of the titles of the books he had been entrusted with. They seemed in tune with the essay, but didn't provide any explanations as to why she was in possession of such books. He spotted _Archaeological Sites of England_, _Ancient Egyptian Civilizations: Views Through the Time-Turner_, _Ancient Magical Relics and Where to Find Them_, and a number of books on Stonehenge from both magical and Muggle presses.

Before he could voice any questions, McGonagall opened the door to her office and briskly dropped her stack of books on the desk with a wave of her wand. The books in Harry's arms leapt onto the desk at the same time.

"Thank you Harry. I keep forgetting that I'm not as young as I used to be,"she said with a wry grin, settling into her seat. She rustled through a desk drawer and produced a roll of parchment with his name on it. Harry sat down in the chair opposite hers, feeling distinctly uncomfortable knowing that she was perusing his grades.

"Hmm. Your written exam for Potions was an 'Outstanding' on its own, but your practical brought your mark down," she summarised. Harry nodded; he already knew all this.

"I'm sure you recall what I told you during advising: Professor Snape doesn't allow students with a grade any less than an 'O' in both written and practical to take NEWT Potions," she continued, pushing her square glasses back up her nose.

"I know, I know, it's a long shot. And to be honest, I don't even want to take the class," Harry said, practically spitting the words out in dislike. "I just have to. Is there really nothing I can do?"

He expected a firm 'no', but instead, McGonagall didn't answer him immediately, as if she were seriously groping for alternatives and trying to decide whether to offer them to him. Eventually, pressed her fingers to her forehead.

"There are two ways you could still get into NEWT Potions, Potter, but I dare say you won't like either of them. The first option would be to retake your OWL exam," she explained, taking off her glasses and wiping them down with a red handkerchief.

"Wouldn't I have to wait until the end of the year to do that?" Harry asked, disheartened. The aging witch shook her head.

"Supplemental exams can be arranged, but they're usually reserved for people who couldn't take them the first time around due to extraordinary circumstances. Taking another one would, however, annul your existing grade, which I should point out is quite good, and you would need Professor Snape's approval. The only way that would work out for you is if you managed to get an O the second time around. If you do worse, you'll keep the lower mark."

"Erm...what's the other option?" Anything that put Snape into the equation was a no-go. The last time he had been alone in a room with the Potions Master, the encounter had ended with objects being thrown at him, an experience Harry was far from eager to repeat.

McGonagall tapped her glasses with her wand to reset the spot repellant and replaced them on her face.

"You ask him to let you into his class with your current grade. And given your...rapport with the Professor, I think you'll have little chance of persuading him."

Harry laughed sardonically at how politely McGonagall put it.

* * *

Warm sunlight poured into the Control Room from the above hatch. From where she was sitting, Teyla could see the walls of the Jumper Bay through it, and knew the hatch at the top of the Bay was open as well. No one seemed to be complaining about the broken doors. They were defiantly stuck open ever since they had tried to fly a ship through the gate, and so far the attempt to make them close had failed. Teyla supposed that the indifference to the problem would change once the weather did. A real shame in her opinion; things were bad enough as it was. 

As she sat at one end of the oval table in Control's glass-framed briefing room, she couldn't help but feel as though there were an invisible line dividing it, separating two opposing sides. On her end, she sat with John's second in command, Lieutenant Aiden Ford, a man barely out of boyhood and eager to help Atlantis in any way he could, and Sergeant Bates, head of the city's security. Major Sheppard's usual seat next to hers was conspicuously empty.

Facing them were three of the lead scientists on the expedition, a severe-looking woman named Simpson, Carson Beckett, their chief medical officer, and none other than Dr. Kavanaugh, who was fiddling with his ponytail. Next to him, another two seats were unoccupied, meant for Rodney and Dr. Zelenka.

At the centre, trying to form a bridge between the two sides was Dr. Weir. Her expression was neutral at the moment, but Teyla was starting to notice weariness with the constant bickering between these particular officers and scientists, and irritation over the half-absent assembly.

As if on queue, the door to the room slid open and John jogged in, muttering his apologies.

"Sorry I'm late! I was at the Upper East Side and...uh...traffic was murder?" he offered, trailing off after one look at Weir's unamused face.

"Glad you could join us, Major," she answered as she raised an eyebrow at his excuse and glared. Teyla almost grinned with amusement while watching Sheppard meet Weir's eyes briefly before averting his gaze and sitting down without any further comment.

"Would you happen to know if Rodney and Radek plan to make an appearance?" Weir asked John. He shook his head, settling into his seat and flipping open the folder left for him to read through.

"I don't know. Last time I saw them, they were still trying to fix the Bay doors," he replied. Kavanaugh sniggered, but said nothing once he noticed Weir's wary look warning him to stay respectful.

Teyla only listened to a good part of the meeting. Most of the initial topics were things she was only marginally concerned with and had little to say about. Twice, Kavanaugh tried to push some of his projects or plans to the forefront in a manner that Teyla could only categorise as excessively aggressive, and he began to grate on her nerves, as well as everyone else's. Each time, he was shot down, once by Sheppard and once by his own female coworker, supported by Weir. His anger was nothing new in itself, but its intensity seemed to grow every week as his ideas grew more ambitious and demanding, and the refusals to comply became more frequent. Teyla was worried it might reach a breaking point soon unless Weir figured out how to defuse it. She pondered on suggestions to give her friend about him as the meeting moved steadily forward.

The topic then fell to a very heated subject: food and supplies. Dr. Beckett, an amiable man with a delightful Scottish accent presented the group with an inventory of their remaining supplies. Weir read through the list carefully before passing it to the others to peruse. Teyla didn't know what all of the items were - her knowledge of the script the Terrans used was still shaky - but she knew well enough what the multiple '0's meant.

"I'm sure I don't need to impress on any of you the severity of the situation. Bottom line is, we either need to find a way to contact Earth or start investing in alternatives on a large scale. The same applies to our food stores," he summarised, gesturing at the manifest which Ford was currently in possession of.

"Alternatives?" Kavanaugh repeated, clearly offended, "To our medical supplies? You can't be serious. Ours are more advanced than any other culture that we've encountered in this galaxy. Are you suggesting we resort to unsophisticated herbs and folk magic?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Why, yes, I believe he is, Dr. Kavanaugh," he answered wryly.

Offended by Kavanaugh's comments, Teyla refused to let the insult pass and spoke up. "They may be unsophisticated by your standards, but that does not mean they are useless. My people's remedies for common ailments are usually just as effective as yours," she refuted, her serene voice barely covering her true feelings.

Ford glanced back and forth between them and then shifted nervously in his chair. Everyone seemed to suddenly become very interested in the documents in their folders or the patterns on the ceiling, with the exception of Weir, who eyed Kavanaugh with another glare, warning him silently to stop. Kavanaugh, however, seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was in the room other than Teyla.

"Is that so?" he scoffed, "then maybe your people ought to just stick to their medicines and we'll keep ours. We'll certainly waste less that way!"

"That's _enough_," Weir interrupted as Kavanaugh opened his mouth to continue. Her voice was harsh and cold.

"Denying our friends medical assistance beyond their means but within ours is out of the question. End of discussion. What we will discuss is how to substitute or synthesise some of our supplies with things we can find in Pegasus. Until then, we'll spare what we can."

"Making most of the basic compounds shouldn't be a problem. The trick'll be finding pure sources of some of the inorganic materials - and finding alternatives to non-renewable items like needles," Beckett clarified.

"All right. For now, we'll try to keep our consumption of those things to a bare minimum. Carson, can you make a list of what you feel falls into that category?"

"Not a problem, Dr. Weir."

"Good." She looked around her to see nods of agreement with the proposal before looking to Teyla. "Teyla, I remember you mentioned a planet where your people forage when food runs low. Could we go there?"

The Athosian smiled. She had completely forgotten that she had mentioned it, but was now glad that Weir had remembered. "Yes, we call it Dankriel. We visited it last four seasons ago."

"We'll put it at the top of the off world missions' roster then. Take whoever you need to, Athosian or otherwise. John will decide what team will go with you, and we'll do some sediment analysis there to see if we can find some raw materials."

Sheppard reread the mission roster before answering. "Will do. I think we should also bump up the mission to meet the...Votri-"

"Votrae," Teyla corrected, poking Sheppard in the side.

"to- Hey! Uh, six days from now and push the one to B2X-1506 back. Teyla's sure they'll have some food to trade."

Weir nodded in agreement and made some notes on her papers. Teyla noticed the barest hint of a smile on the commander's face at Sheppard's indignant expression from being poked and let her own grin grow. Finally, Weir stood up and gathered her things.

"I think that covers everything, unless I've forgotten something?"

"Wait," said Kavanaugh, "B2X-1506 is the planet with those strange ruins by the river. We were supposed to investigate them for signs of Ancient technology a month ago, but first rain flooded the area and then you insisted that SG-2 secure the area! Can't we go there first?"

"I realise you were anxious to check it out, but I think that right now getting food is more important. It just isn't our top priority to go now," Weir explained.

"Not our top priority? I thought the whole point of coming to Atlantis was to explore! Instead we're scavenging for food like a bunch of animals!"

Teyla instantly recognised that Weir's temper was flaring dangerously beneath her placid contours. Sheppard noticed it too and coughed loudly, breaking the tension and redirecting the attention to himself, probably not wanting to see just how scary Weir could become when angry. Stories of her previous confrontation with Kavanaugh were practically legendary among the crew.

"Well, I don't know about you Kavanaugh, but I like eating, don't you?" he snapped, planting himself closer to Weir for emphasis. Teyla didn't think she had to say anything else to indicate what her opinion was, and judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, neither did they.

Kavanaugh's lip curled as he tried to think of a response, but seemed to think better of it once Sheppard reached for his bundle of memos and tucked it under his arm.

"I think we're done," the major said, never taking his eyes off of Kavanaugh, who skulked out without a word a moment later. Simpson gave quiet apologies to Weir for her coworker and withdrew as well, with Bates and Ford trailing behind after saying their farewells to the others. Weir closed her eyes and sighed in relief as she slumped back into her chair.

"Tell me again how that guy got on the expedition?" Sheppard asked, shaking his head.

"General Jenkins recommended him, and at the time, based on his file, I thought it was a good idea to invite him," Elizabeth recounted, not for the first time. "Now I wish I could go back in time and slap myself in the face."

"I am sorry that you have to deal with him. He seems to grow increasingly irate every time I see him,"Teyla said, frowning.

"It's not just him. Bates, Rodney, even Peter sometimes gets really edgy now. I think they're starting to worry if the expedition was worth it, especially now that we're almost out of a lot of supplies. I'm getting really worried too," Weir admitted.

"Do not worry. We will succeed," Teyla assured her, and she meant it. The odds were starting to increase against them, and they were both battling the same concerns. Nonetheless, Teyla was confident that they would prevail as long as people like Kavanaugh weren't in charge.


	3. An Ancient Puzzle

**An Ancient Puzzle**

"You go first."

"Me? You're the one that made us late!"

"It's not my fault we couldn't repair-oh, damn," Rodney McKay swore as he rounded the corner into the lower section of the control room, still bickering with Dr. Zelenka. He chanced a quick look at the briefing room. Maybe the meeting hadn't started yet and he could sneak in without drawing too much attention to himself...

He stopped right in his tracks and ducked down at the sight of the room. Not only was the meeting well underway by the looks of it, but Teyla and Kavanaugh were arguing! There was no way he was going in there now. Rodney had a very strong survival instinct, and the last thing he was going to do was get in the middle of _that_. No, no, he would just have to hide out and think up a good excuse for missing the meeting. That would be the sensible thing to do.

"Oooh, I'm suddenly very glad that we're late," Zelenka admitted, spying the confrontation while Rodney stayed out of sight. "Now we just have to explain ourselves, and fast," he added quietly, gesturing behind them. Rodney quickly understood the urgency; already most of the staff in Control was giving them curious looks, including Peter Grodin, the ops commander and fellow scientist.

McKay tugged on Zelenka's sleeve and led him to a rarely-used Ancient panel in the corner of the room. Using Major Sheppard's heightened skill with Ancient technology, the team had managed to determine that it was responsible for accessing logs of all sorts, but had yet to actually sift through it completely. There were thousands of files, and translating Ancient text was an arduous process.

"Come on, we can use this to see what kind of damage the East Tower suffered since the Major can't figure it out," Rodney urged.

"Are you sure that you can run this thing? You may have had the Ancient gene artificially inserted into your DNA, but you're not exactly able to work the technology perfectly," Zelenka pointed out worriedly. He took up a spot a few feet behind McKay, watching both him and the panel as though they would explode at any given moment.

"Don't be ridiculous," McKay snapped back. Why was Zelenka so worried? It was just a piece of ten-million year-old technology with information stored on it, not a nuclear warhead!

"See?" he continued as the panel became illuminated with a familiar electric blue glow," I've already got it running!"

In his own mind, Rodney conceded that Zelenka's concern had some merit, albeit only a small amount. Sure, he _sometimes_ lost control while flying a Puddle Jumper, and okay, he had _accidentally_ set off a drone which had struck a large tree on the mainland, but so what? Dr. Beckett had made the same mistakes on Earth! McKay knew his skill would improve with practice. It was just taking longer than he had expected.

Luckily for him, just navigating through terabytes of information was his strong point. For the next ten minutes, the two scientists waded through rows upon rows of Ancient text, debating on translations, but failed to locate a log that would shed light on their problem.

"This is pointless," Zelenka declared. Once he had been convinced that McKay was not going to cause the device to explode, he had moved to stand right beside him, fixated on the holograms and text.

"Do you have a better idea?" McKay answered irately. He wouldn't admit it, but he was also getting impatient with the machine. Couldn't it just show him what he wanted to find the way it would for Sheppard?

"Yes, actually," Zelenka offered, "Let's tell Dr. Weir the truth before someone else does: that we couldn't fix the bay doors and lost track of time!"

"Why? Elizabeth won't hear anything until she's out of the meeting."

"I know. That's why I'm suggesting it _now_!"

"Huh! Oh, shit…" McKay's heart sank into his feet as he watched the assembly gather their things and start to leave.

"Quick! We have one minute to find _anything_ interesting!" he hissed, watching as Teyla glided out of the room and – his heart jumped out of his feet and ran away – Major Sheppard approached them. He would be more than happy to snitch on them to Weir if he suspected they were still trying to cover for their absence!

Rodney clenched his jaw and tried to look absorbed in working the panel as he began pounding furiously away at it. He barely registered what he was navigating through as he went. It didn't matter to him, as long as he looked like he knew what he was doing. Zelenka, however, did not seem to agree.

"What're you doing! We've been through that section before!" he whispered, grabbing McKay's arm to stop him.

"Stop!" Rodney hissed back, wrenching his arm free. He stole a glance at Sheppard. Damn! He was watching them argue. There would be no stopping him now!

"Come on McKay! Slow down!" Zelenka persisted. Rodney slapped him away each time he tried to interfere until the panel lay forgotten while the two men scuffled.

"Ouch! Let go!"

"What're you-oomf!"

"For crying out loud Radek-Hey! Watch it!"

"Everything all right McKay?"

Rodney and Zelenka froze in position for two seconds before Rodney's survival instinct kicked in. "Everything is fine Major! Thank you for caring!" he answered loudly, trying to look impassive but failing horribly. As he shoved Zelenka to the side forcibly (The Czech was still trying to get him to stop playing with the machine), he overcompensated and seized the panel to regain his balance. His hands slid across it at random, and eventually gave way. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled awkwardly on the floor with Sheppard leering over him.

"Yea, I'd say that you have everything under control," he cracked.

"Why you…"

"Uh…guys?"

Zelenka's timid call turned Rodney's attention away from the major and redirected it to Zelenka's awestruck face. Following his companion's line of sight, Rodney came to gaze at what had captivated him and immediately understood his shock.

The random sequence that Rodney had unwittingly entered while falling to the ground had called up an actual log – an audio-visual one! The text and menus had been replaced by the shimmering blueish projection of a tall lanky man. He had shoulder-length black hair, piercing eyes of an indistinct colour, a flowing cape, and plain clothes that looked like leather and linen. His mouth was moving as if he was speaking, but Rodney couldn't hear anything.

"Check the volume," he ordered, getting to his feet. Sheppard passed his hand over the panel with a look of concentration, and tapped one of the controls. The cloaked man's voice rose in volume until it was as loud as if he were actually standing there next to them.

_Mitto verba salutaris domui mihi majores, Atlantica. Salazar appelatur, filius Slytherinis. Familiae in Afaerone dixit…_

"He's speaking Ancient," Zelenka said. Rodney rolled his eyes. Of course he was! Did he expect him to be speaking English?

"I guess this recording isn't like the first one we found," Sheppard observed. McKay thought back to the holographic recording they had discovered the first day they had arrived in Pegasus and recalled that it _had_ spoken English as it had described why Atlantis had been abandoned and how the Wraith had risen in power. The gears in his brain started to kick in.

"The other one was a prepared recording. It must've had a language interface built into it that could translate the message. The Ancients were good at that sort of thing," Rodney hypothesised.

He turned to catch Grodin's eye, who had been watching them closely since the commotion began, waiting for a sign to interfere.

"Can you page someone Dr. Weir? Or someone else who can translate Ancient?" Rodney asked.

"And get Teyla," Sheppard added. While Grodin nodded and began paging for them, Rodney stared quizzically at the major, who shrugged in response.

"What? She's a native speaker. Our linguists specialize in the writing."

Rodney grumbled in response. He knew that. It would've occurred to him eventually. Why did Sheppard have to constantly one-up him?

* * *

Harry rejoined his best friend, Ron Weasley, at the supper table in the Great Hall. As he helped himself to a large glass of pumpkin juice, Ron flopped down beside him, kicking his schoolbag under the table as he went.

"That bad?" Harry asked, passing an equally large glass to Ron, who gulped half of it down at once.

"It was awful! Honestly Harry, you might be better off just sticking to the classes that you have. I'm certainly glad I didn't get an O in potions! I thought things were bad enough when we were in classes of thirty! But classes of ten? It's too much. I feel like the professors are breathing down my neck!"

"Don't exaggerate Ron, they were only trying to emphasise how important it is that we keep up our grades," Hermione corrected as she sailed over to the other side of the table and sat down. Her own bag was brimming with books, and Harry wondered for the thousandth time how she could possibly carry them all without collapsing with the weight.

"Besides, Harry needs Potions to become an Auror," she continued, piling her plate with food. Ron made a face.

"Unfortunately," Harry conceded.

"What did McGonagall say?" she asked, rolling her eyes back at Ron. He shook his head and turned his attention to his food.

"She said that I have to talk to Snape," Harry answered sourly.

Ron stared blankly. "Are you serious?" When Harry didn't answer, he set his fork and knife down. "Ouch," was all that he could come up with.

Harry grunted and changed the subject, not wanting to think about how he would approach Snape, if at all. "Hermione, have there been any…sightings?" he asked.

"Not recently," she said, pulling a rumpled copy of the day's _Daily Prophet_ out of her bag and passing it over the food, "still nothing in the past week."

"I'll take no news as good news any day," said Ron between mouthfuls. Harry was inclined to agree, but flipped through the pages of the newspaper anyway. He found himself staring at a small article in the back, feeling an odd sense of déja-vu.

_Unknown Archaeology Vandals Strike Again_

_The archaeology vandals struck again last night, this time breaking into the Crookshire monastery and ransacking the magically shielded manuscript room._

"_The room collection is in a state of complete disaster!" said Nicholas Sherrybole, magical caretaker for the monastery, "the shelves and cases were all purposely ripped apart! We can't even tell if some artifacts and documents are here, or missing, or destroyed beyond recovery!"_

_While this is the fourth case of vandalism of this type in three weeks, the most prominent being the ransack of the Depository of Unclassified Egyptian Artifacts in Oxford, Ministry officials from the Department of Magical Heritage continue to assure the public that similar sites are not in danger._

"_We're currently investigating this and the other incidents," a department spokeswizard said, "they appear to be the work of underage wizards or witches. We expect that they'll end since the school term has begun."_

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Hermione said once she saw which article he was reading, "I can't even begin to imagine how much work it's going to take to sort all those messes out. Did you know that Crookshire has documents related to Hogwarts' founding? They're allegedly written by the founders themselves, but it's never been proven."

"They're just books, Hermione, relax!" Ron insisted, rolling his eyes.

"How can you say that? Even you must realise the historical significance…"

Harry tuned his friends out, his mind racing even faster than before. Was it just a coincidence that McGonagall had apparently also taken a sudden interest in the same things as the vandals? Or did this have something to do with the Order of the Phoenix, the underground resistance to the Dark Lord?

But what did Voldemort want with a bunch of old books?

* * *

Even though she had the shortest distance to travel, Elizabeth Weir was the last to arrive at the scene. After the others had departed from the briefing, she had remained at her seat, staring at the manifest Carson had presented, and thinking about what it meant, what they could do about it, and whether they would survive. Keeping order and preventing hoarding once the crew got wind of how few supplies they actually had left (and she didn't doubt that it would) was going to be difficult to say the lest, and hell, she was getting scared. She hated to admit it, but she knew well what the familiar twinge in her chest was. It was fear, plain and simple. Only reluctantly did she answer Rodney's summons, once she had decided that it would distract her, at least for a while.

Teyla was on her second playback when Weir came down and Zelenka explained to her in hushed tones what they had found. She couldn't help but sense that he was leaving something out, probably related to why he and Rodney hadn't made it to the briefing, but said nothing. She wasn't in the mood to berate someone else after dealing with Kavanaugh.

_Rogo tenturus esse nos iuvateque. Auxilium solum estis._

Teyla was mumbling under her breath what sounded like a sort of Latin declension pattern. The diplomat waited patiently for the Athosian, restraining her urge to interrupt the woman's train of thought. The playback began again.

"So what does it say? 'Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope'?" John enquired jokingly, forgetting that the joke would be lost on Teyla. He received only a strange look in return.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" she repeated, clearly unsure whether it was a word or a proper name.

"Uh…I'll explain later. So who's this guy?" he answered, grinning sheepishly at his fumble.

"He says his name is Salazar Slytherin and that his ancestors came from Atlantis. His relatives now live in….Afaeron? The name is not familiar to me."

"Afaeron…we'll have to look it up in the address archives. What else is he saying?" Elizabeth asked, frowning. She felt as though the name was familiar and that she should know what it meant, but at the same time it sounded wrong.

"It is difficult to translate. I do not know all of the words he is using. His dialect is different from mine, so some sound wrong…I think he is asking for help…" she trailed off and listened again to a section of the recording, directing Sheppard to manipulate it at the controls.

"He says that his people brought something with them to Afaeron. Not something good, I suppose. There are only a few of them left. Their situation is dire, and they need….power? He is asking for an item that could serve this purpose." Teyla wrinkled her nose in annoyance over her sketchy translation, creating creases along her smooth, tanned skin.

"A ZPM?" Rodney supplemented. Teyla shook her head.

"Perhaps, but I do not think so. Whatever it is, he believes it to be in the north most point of the city, in a tower."

Rodney shook his head in disagreement. "It can't be a ZPM. We scanned the entire city the first day we arrived, and it only registered the three powering Atlantis. Unless the sensors are malfunctioning, and I don't think they are, there are no other ZPMs here."

"Maybe the ZPM is cloaked so that intruders can't find it?" Ford suggested aloud, brainstorming.

"Or maybe he's not asking for a ZPM at all. Why did this guy even send the message? There hasn't been anyone here for what? Ten thousand years or so?" Sheppard interjected.

Teyla could only shrug. "Apparently, he thought otherwise."

"When was this transmission sent? Is there any way to tell?" Elizabeth asked. McKay stared at the holovid for a moment, scrutinizing the Ancient writing floating just above the image of the man.

"Luckily for us, translating numbers isn't so hard once you get some points of reference, which we have. Based on the dates the computers place for today and for this? I'd say...about a thousand years ago, give or take a century, maybe? This planet's orbit's a little longer than Earth's."

"Okay. So a thousand years ago this man used the gate to transmit a call for help. He clearly had some level of Ancient technology at his disposal, but ran out of power, and needs a boost," Elizabeth summarised.

"A boost which he thinks is in the North Tower," Sheppard added.

"Do we have any evidence to suggest that his information was accurate?"

Elizabeth's question brought the conversation to a halt while everyone gaped at her in surprise.

"Elizabeth, if I understand the timeline we're dealing with, we're dealing with information – no, sorry, _rumors_ – that were passed around for several thousand years like a game of broken telephone. He could have all of his facts wrong. We could be mistranslating him," Rodney argued.

The logical part of her brain agreed completely with him. Her question was based on hearsay that was lifetimes older than any of them. But the other part of her brain – the one that acted instinctually, on emotion – it was whispering to her, hinting that they would find more if the merely looked.

She also had to admit that part of her question was based on fear. The message called to her like a beacon of light at the end of a dark tunnel. If it was true, if there was _something_ they had yet to locate in Atlantis that could solve the issue of power...

"I do not know what proof we have that this man's information is accurate, but I can tell you that I believe that we should investigate this," Teyla said.

"Uh...why?" McKay demanded.

"I do not know. It is just my intuition," she answered simply. Her agreement strengthened Elizabeth's resolve. Teyla had an excellent instinct for decisions, like many of the Athosians seemed to, and it had never faltered once.

"Look, we never fully explored the North Wing of the city, right?" Elizabeth reminded them.

"The farthest points were damaged from flooding," Grodin reminded her, hovering in the background with Zelenka.

"And there were one or two hallways far out that we didn't do any preliminary scouting in because their entrances were flooded. The rest of the section could still be intact," she continued. Sheppard regarded her gravely.

"Or...not," he replied simply, "It could just lead to a dead end."

Elizabeth searched her crew's eyes in earnest. "Tell me the truth," she ordered firmly, "What do you all make of this?"

Rodney looked downward and avoided her eyes. "Honestly, Elizabeth? It's a wild goose chase."

"It is, however, in our own playground. It wouldn't take that long to check out," Sheppard said.

"Whose side are you on? You were arguing against me before," she asked. He grinned.

"Neither, really. Just feel like playing Devil's Advocate. I'll leave the decision making in your capable hands."

The others nodded in assent, and Weir felt a surge of pride and appreciation for them for being so trusting in her ability to choose. Once again, she reconsidered her options. She looked again at the situation and conceded that Rodney was right – the possibility of finding something they had missed was slim at best. But, the twinge of instinct still crept in her mind, urging her to look anyways. Weir had followed the intuition and against her better judgment several times since coming to Pegasus – in deciding to go, in letting Sheppard try and rescue Teyla and Sumner from the Wraith...So far, while each instance had had consequences she wasn't proud of, she didn't regret any of them.

"Get someone to transcribe the recording and to work with Teyla's translation to clean it up. Have them try to figure out the parts that she can't," she told Grodin, who nodded and returned to his post to carry out her orders. Weir then looked to Sheppard.

"Let's check this out. We found Atlantis by following a rumor. We may find something through this one."


	4. Sally Forth

**Sally Forth**

The following morning, Ford, Teyla, and McKay, all dressed in slick wetsuits, gathered at the farthest north point of the city that could be accessed on foot. Aiden, for one, was anxious to put the debate to rest, and tapped his foot impatiently while the three of them waited for Sheppard and Dr. Weir. Behind them, a winding staircase departed from the partially open-aired hallway, disappearing under a pool bearing the strong and unmistakable scent of salt water. A motor pump the size of a small cooler whirred away happily beside them, spilling water from the submerged stairway back into the ocean outside.

The water's movements calmed Aiden, setting him at ease. Teyla gazed outside at it, as unflappable as ever, and McKay...well, McKay was his usual tense self which wasn't saying much. Aiden himself tried to remain placid, but found he had trouble schooling his boyish face into anything but an eager smile. He always got excited when they went to a new place in the galaxy, and this was new exception. That was one of the reasons he had signed up to the Pegasus expedition. He realized, thinking back, that he had personally explored little of Atlantis as of yet, having spent his initial days setting up shop before being added to Sheppard's team. He looked forward to rectifying that.

Atlantis' two leaders arrived carrying two bags in their arms. "I trust everyone remembered to bring their swimwear? Beach towels, volleyball, swimsuits?" Sheppard asked merrily, checking the seals on the bags. Aiden grinned.

"We've got everything we'll need – radios, change of clothes, the works," he reported, pointing at an organised pile of supplies at their side, "all checked and double-checked."

"Great! Good job Ford," Sheppard responded approvingly, scooping up the pile carefully and loading it into the bags with Weir's help.

"According to the city maps in the computers, this stairway continues for about one kilometer underwater before starting to rise again. We shouldn't be under for more than a few minutes," McKay told them.

"Even so, stay together. The water's not exactly warm, and there may be something blocking your way," Weir reminded them while they equipped their scuba gear and strapped the oxygen tanks and packs to their backs. Ford felt like he was carrying an elephant on his back.

"All right, everyone in the pool. I'll go first, then you McKay, then Teyla. Ford, you take the rear. Stay within arm's reach of the person in front of you in case you run into trouble," Sheppard ordered. After helping Teyla ensure that her gear was set (she had only been introduced to it a few hours ago), Ford watched his C.O. wade into the water and followed suit.

The water's density helped lift some of the weight off his back, and with the lights they had brought the water was not so dark. In front of him, the three shapes of his friends were slowly swimming ahead. Ford kicked off a stair and swam after them.

The team moved at a slow but steady pace, giving him plenty of time to look at what they were passing through. Like every other hallway in Atlantis, this one was perfectly constructed –elegant curves and right angles formed a gleaming passage that curved downwards and to the side as if it were meant to from the beginning of time. McKay beckoned them through a cross-section and they plodded on.

Nothing beneath the surface threatened them, much to Aiden's relief. Several minutes later, he waded his way back up another set of stairs and ripped off his mouthpiece, sucking in a breath of salty air that felt fresh compared to the stale compressed oxygen in his metal canister.

"These things may make it possible to breathe underwater, but I think I would prefer merely holding my breath if I could last long enough," Teyla gasped, removing her own mouthpiece eagerly, "Do you think that the water level will drop sufficiently for us to forgo the equipment by the time we finish?"

McKay shook his head, sending droplets of water all over the place. "I seriously doubt it. The pump isn't powerful enough. I noticed some drainage vents on the floor, but they looked sealed."

"We'll pass the information along. Maybe Grodin or Zelenka can figure it out," Sheppard suggested. He plugged his earpiece back into his ear and switched the radio on while everyone arranged the equipment and did the same.

"Sheppard to Control. We've cleared the water and are proceeding as planned."

_That's good to hear,_ Weir answered. Ford could hear her moving through the city, probably on her way back to Control herself. _Anything we can do?_

Sheppard relayed McKay's observation of the vents to her. After receiving an acknowledgment, he picked his pack back up.

"All right. Keep your bearings," he said cheerfully to the group. The others followed him out, Aiden once again taking the rear.

"Why didn't the stairwell empty out when the city rose?" he asked McKay. He saw the scientist's shoulders tense in thought from behind his pack.

"That part of the hall is lower than the rest. With those drains sealed, the water probably had nowhere to go."

"Like a puddle on a tent flap," Teyla compared.

"What I don't understand is why only the drains and the sensors don't work here, but everything else does," Sheppard observed. Ford nearly facepalmed. He hadn't even noticed, but when he thought about it, the major was right. After all, the lights were on, so there wasn't a power problem, and they had walked through several doors using the sensors to open them without a second thought. The young lieutenant cajoled himself for not being so attentive in their setting. The fact that he was used to Atlantis was letting his guard down.

"Maybe it's a control freakout? The systems are tied together, aren't they?" Ford suggested.

"Maybe," McKay conceded, at a loss for an explanation.

_Close, but no cigar,_ an excited voice cut in through the radio. Ford shared an exasperated look with Sheppard.

"Care to enlighten us, Grodin?" Sheppard asked.

_I've been trying to get these drains open for you, or at least I was until I realized that I don't have access to the controls. They're not just malfunctioning, they're running on an **independent** system that isn't connected to the rest of the city's controls._

"Huh. That's completely different from the Ancient's usual style," McKay noted.

Ford took the information in and mouthed the obvious first. "Which means there _must_ be something here. Something big."

"Let's pay attention then. The Ancients were good at protecting their secrets," Sheppard warned.

As they continued on more warily than before, Aiden felt the excitement and anticipation creep up on him again. It was the same as when he had gone camping with his father as a child, gone through New York City without a map as a teenager, and when he'd been approved to join the SGC. He did nothing to restrain it, remembering well his father's advice.

_Always listen to your gut. People may warn you that it's childish and nothing more than a distraction, but that's hogwash. It'll tell you where to go and what to do. There's no better tool that you can bring with you._

His father had always believed that there was something more to the world and to being human than most. Aiden had believed it too, and now knew that he had been right. He was living in the proof. His one regret was that his father wasn't alive to learn that.

The team's march came to a halt at a dead end. The walls surrounding them merged together to form a high window that reminded Aiden of a gothic cathedral. At the top of the tall panes, a form of a triangular crystal had been expertly etched into the glass. McKay snapped pictures for reference while Sheppard waved at Ford and Teyla to look around. They found nothing of obvious significance except a few odd plaques on the walls. Sheppard found a triangle-glyph everyone knew represented Earth's point of origin in the Stargate network, Teyla located an eight-pointed star nestled in a dark corner that no one else noticed, and Ford found a complex hexagon shape filled with a strange fractal design.

"Grodin, we're about five hundred meters from the stairwell, directly north. Is there anything adjacent to this hall?" Sheppard radioed.

_Nothing that appears on the map. There is, however, a gap between the level you're on and the base of the city. It could be ballast space, but I'm not sure._

"Okay, thanks," John replied. "Any thoughts, guys?"

"I'm thinking that this place may have had religious significance. It could be Atlantis' version of Notre-Dame," said McKay. Ford could see why he thought that, but he didn't agree. He had nothing else to offer, however, and kept silent. Sheppard walked back up to the Earth-glyph and, without any other idea of what to do, poked it.

The glyph lit up like a Christmas tree and a gentle hum.

"Heeelooo," Sheppard grinned. This time, he held his hand on the plaque and focused. It gave off a shimmer of colour and began to slide around at the touch of his fingers.

"They're ATA-activated!" McKay called. Having realized this, he had gone to another glyph and activated it in the same way. He was now sending it in circles.

"Okay. We've got three symbols that move on walls. What does this mean?" John said, more to himself than anyone else.

Something clicked inside Aiden's mind. "Does anyone else get the feeling that we're being tested? Maybe we have to move the symbols into their proper positions and something will happen."

"But which one goes where? There could be countless configurations," Teyla wondered. Her eyes wandered the room, looking for clues.

They contacted Control, apprising them of their status and asking for help in solving the puzzle, but soon learned that, as expected, the others were just as clueless as them, if not more. Not a single reference or tidbit could be found in their databases, which wasn't saying much as they only scratched the surface of what was stored on the Atlantean computers. An hour later, Ford was ready to give up when Teyla's perseverance paid off.

"There is a depression in the floor," she announced.

Converging on her position, Ford managed to spot what she had; just below the window, beams of light played against the blue floor, highlighting a perfectly circular dip. He stared at it blankly. It reminded him of a puddle of water...

Something occurred to him and he looked at the walls again. Unlike the rest of the city, this corner's walls fazed into two colours. The upper part was the silver he was accustomed to seeing, but just by the base of the floor it changed...into a vivid marine blue.

"Under the sea," he murmured. Once Sheppard looked at the colour contrast, he seemed to understand.

"Riiight...the city's main defense is to sink underwater..."

He returned to the Earth-glyph and took grasped its corners. After a moment of thought, he gave a small tug and the glyph fell off the wall and neatly into his palm. Without further ceremony, he placed it carefully into the depression.

Nothing happened.

"Wait, _Earth_ wasn't put underwater, the _city_ was," McKay corrected. He removed the glyph and returned to the dark corner that only Teyla had spotted, replacing the star-symbol from there. "Earth's location was _hidden_."

Sheppard replaced the Earth-glyph with the star-glyph, which left the mysterious square.

"What does this one mean? The Wraith?" Teyla wondered.

"The galaxy, maybe?" Ford suggested. Neither of these things seemed to fit. As they debated on the possibilities for meanings and positions, Sheppard idly played with the square, dragging it all over the walls until it randomly froze in place with a snap. From Aiden's vantage point, he could see that it had stopped in a place that was an equal distance from the other two glyphs.

The area around the star-glyph (which they now assumed represented Atlantis) dropped a few centimeters and began to retract, revealing a staircase leading downwards.

"Sweet," John exclaimed. After a quick check-in with Weir, the team photographed the positions of the glyphs and eagerly stepped inside.

"I hope there's no more puzzles to figure out," McKay said hopefully.

"Not feeling up to the task?" Aiden jeered.

"Hardly! It's just less stressful. I don't work well under pressure..."

While McKay babbled on, the door slid shut, engulfing the quartet in darkness. Aiden fumbled for his flashlight, flipping it on in time to see panic racing across McKay's face. Teyla squeezed the scientist's shoulder.

"Do _not_ worry. The others know where we are. If we cannot reopen the door, we can ask them to do so for us," she told him firmly.

"I'll update them," Aiden offered. He flicked his microphone on.

"Ford to Control. Please respond."

Only static answered. He tried again. Still nothing. McKay and Sheppard got the same problem before McKay thought to pull something out of his pack and examine the readings.

"Our signals are being jammed!"

Sheppard swore.

* * *

Harry didn't get much of a chance to explore his suspicions that day or the next. His course load was so overwhelming that it was taking him longer than he had expected to adjust to it all. On the fourth day of classes, he gathered up the courage to go see Snape, and after being bidden good luck by a worried-looking Ron, he marched out of the Common Room. Retake slip in hand, he slowly made his way towards the lower section of the castle, stopping more than once to reconsider what he was doing. 

"Potter!"

Surprised, Harry slammed into the side of a statue at the sound of Professor Snape's voice. The Professor barreled towards him like a black phantom, his face contorted between the evident shock of seeing Harry so close to his abode, and anger at his very presence.

"What're you doing?" he demanded, crossing his arms. Harry forced down the desire to snap at him and stepped towards him.

"I was coming to see you, actually," he answered truthfully, but slowly, trying to leave his tone measured. He could feel Snape's eyes boring into him and his mind in an attempt to determine whether he was lying or not. Harry held his ground and returned the sallow wizard's cold stare.

"Is that so?" the greasy-haired man eventually said with a smug grin.

"It's the truth," Harry retorted. He could feel he heat rising to his face along with his own anger and distaste, and tried to suppress them. Unceremoniously, he unfolded the parchment in his hand and exposed the written side for Snape to see.

Snape's coal-black eyes scanned the letter once before snatching it out of Harry's hand.

"Don't waste my time Potter. You couldn't get an O in that exam if the answers paraded in front of you."

"Maybe," Harry answered hotly, "but I'm allowed to try."

The Potions Master raised his hand to the parchment, thinking it over with an expression similar to the one McGonagall had worn just a few days ago. Then, surprisingly, he tapped the vellum twice, and a neat-handed signature etched itself into it.

"….Thank you," Harry said quietly. He had never imagined that he would find himself saying that to him.

Snape smiled cruelly. "Oh, don't thank me just yet. I will inform you when your exam will take place once I have prepared it. And _if_," he added, "you should happen to receive an O, I shall expect all the assignments given in class to be presented to me immediately. But, as I'm sure you know, I find that outcome _highly _unlikely."

Without waiting for a response, Snape whirled around and marched on his way, his cape billowing behind him. It was only after he left that Harry realized he had just handed his grade over to the person who hated him the most in the world. Half-amazed at what he had just done, he retreated to the side of the hall, resting his back against the statue he had bumped into. He didn't register how long he was there until he heard new voices wafting in from the end of the hall that led to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Don't you understand? There must be more down there than what Potter found. If I can claim it, my father would be absolved!"

"But I thought that only a Porslertongue-"

"_Parselmouth_, you prat!"

"-Could get in? That's what all the rumors said."

"I think I can get around that…"

Harry slipped behind the stature and crouched. He didn't have his Invisibility Cloak to conceal him, but years spent with the Dursleys had taught Harry how to move around silently and inconspicuously. Mere seconds after he retreated to his hiding place, Draco skulked past, accompanied by Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, who looked as though someone had glued her to Malfoy.

"You can do it Draco, I just _know_ it! Your father will be so pleased!" she cooed. Malfoy smiled.

"I know I will. It would be easier if the Professor had agreed to help, though. I can't understand why he's so terrified of going back down there. Stupid git's probably worried I'll steal some of his glory from the Dark Lord," he answered haughtily. Harry couldn't help but gape at Malfoy's audacity. Was he really so sure of himself that he felt there was no danger professing his plans smack in the middle of the school? He tried to listen for more, but their voices drifted away as they rounded the corner.

When Harry was sure he was alone, he finally stopped to consider everything strange that had just happened. Part of him was still realising that Snape had only allowed him to retake the OWL exam in order to toy with him, but for the most part he was hung up on everything else. The Order of Phoenix and possibly Voldemort were interested in the past. And Malfoy was whispering about getting into the Chamber of Secrets…

But why? He was missing some critical piece of information, and Harry doubted that he could ferret it out on his own. Deciding that he'd put it off long enough, he headed back to the Common Room, intent on filling Ron and Hermione in.

* * *

"We've lost contact with Major Sheppard and his team," Grodin informed Elizabeth reluctantly. She bit her lip. 

"How long?"

"About ten minutes and counting since they're last check-in was due. My guess is that the room they entered is jamming our radio signals. It's not like Major Sheppard to skip call-ins."

"Agreed. Peter, do you think you could get around the jamming and re-establish contact?"

He shook his head. "I can try some usual tactics, but I doubt they'll work. I'll need some help. Kavanaugh or Zelenka would be the best choices."

Weir didn't exactly want to call Kavanaugh, but her concern for the others overrode her personal feelings. "Get them both. Pull them off whatever they're working on. I'll contact Carson and put a medical team on standby over there."

"We don't have any more scuba gear. We only brought four suits," Grodin warned.

"I know. They'll have to wait at our end of the tower for now."

"I'll have another pump installed."

"Good. Keep me posted on your progress."

She retreated to her desk to think things over after alerting Dr. Beckett. She was sure that they had discovered something significant, realising that the Ancients had constructed a puzzle to test those who would claim it, one that trapped people it deemed unworthy. For now, Elizabeth reminded herself vehemently that she had to have faith in John and the others. Doubting them now wouldn't help them in the least. She had done what she could, and would continue to do so.

Elizabeth busied herself for the next half-hour with mundane tasks that required her attention. She had initially hoped that it would distract her mind from worrying, but caught herself wanting to ask Grodin for updates every five minutes or so. Nonetheless, she was baffled by how little work she actually got done until someone interrupted her.

"Dr. Weir."

Her head snapped upwards from the memo on her desk to take in the sight of Kavanaugh, who looked just as annoyed to be there as she was to see him.

"Dr. Kavanaugh, what can I do for you?"

"I came to report that so far we've been unsuccessful in bypassing the radio jam. In my opinion, given that we don't even know what's causing it, we probably never will until we learn something more."

Elizabeth nodded grimly. It had been a long shot, but she hadn't wanted to take any chances.

"Zelenka's going to keep working on it anyways. Unless you object," he continued, placing a certain emphasis on the last word, "I'm going to return to my lab and clean up another ruined experiment."

Weir thought back a few months, recalling a long-term project Kavanaugh said he was working on.

"Not the one involving the substances found in the western storage room?"

"The same. I've been waiting a month for those compounds to ferment. By now, they've probably overoxydized. I had just started the last chain reaction when Grodin called me. He's damn persistent when he wants to be."

"You couldn't ask someone else to oversee it while you came?" Weir asked, incredulous at how upset he was.

"Like who? The only other people qualified to handle the compounds are McKay and Zelenka. On the other hand, there are tons of people here that know how to tinker with radio frequencies."

Sensing an impasse, Elizabeth tried to change Kavanaugh's point of view. "I'm sorry your project has been set back, but let me ask you this: if you were in their position and McKay was here, wouldn't you want him helping out rather than just anyone?"

Kavanaugh stopped at the door to consider her question before opening it.

"No," he said flatly, "McKay would probably screw it up."

The door closed, and Elizabeth exhaled upwards in frustration, sending her breath against her hair. She tried to refocus on her pile of work, but time seemed to be crawling by at a painful rate.

_Honey? I'm home!_

Her heart leapt out of her chest – partly from surprise and partly from relief – at the cheerful sound of Sheppard's voice. A small cheer erupted in the Control Room as she checked her watch. It had been just over two hours since they had lost contact. Smiling broadly, she left her office to pat Grodin and Zelenka on the back.

"It's good to hear your voices. You had us worried for a while," she told him before smiling at the scientists. "Good job, Radek, Peter."

Zelenka smiled sheepishly. "Actually, Dr. Weir, we didn't do anything."

"Huh? Then how-"

_We solved it. What did you think? Such little faith, good doctor,_ Sheppard joked.

"My apologies, major. Did you find anything?" she asked cautiously, trying not to get her hopes up. Her people were alive and well, and that was enough for now.

McKay's chipper voice came on the channel, chattering away excitedly. _Ooh, Elizabeth, we didn't just find anything. We found something **big**!_

"What exactly did you find, Rodney?" she asked in measured tones, noticing that anyone else who could hear the conversation was now listening with great anticipation.

She could practically hear the scientist grinning through the speakers.

_A **recharger**, Elizabeth. A **Zed-PM recharger**!_


	5. Complications and Premonitions

**Complications and Premonitions**

A good part of the week was spent confirming McKay's belief that the artifact discovered in what was now dubbed the Puzzle Room was actually capable of recharging a Zero-Point Module to full power. Many times, debates wore long into the night among Atlantis' brightest minds as to its function, and pouring over the information originally stored next to it in a data node took most of their days as well. Once they had determined that, at the very least, the device wasn't going to act threateningly if they started playing with it, the scientists agreed to test it on an empty site far away from the Wraith's fleet. Because Dr. McKay knew the most about it, John's team was selected to go.

"So this item has the power to refill a ZPM with energy?" Ford asked for the thousandth time. He'd only gotten the basics of how it functioned until now, and was eager to understand more.

"In a sense. It resets the module so it can create another sub-space rift to draw energy from," McKay explained. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground, a depleted ZPM from the city on his left and the artifact on his right. It was a small thing that could be picked up and carried easily by one person. Hexagonal shaped and made of some sort of translucent material, it looked like something one would expect to see in an obscure art gallery. Ford had trouble believing that something that looked like a glorified pedestal could help create a sub-space rift, but at the same time, he had had trouble accepting that something the size of a backpack could house more energy than all the nuclear weapons on Earth combined.

"Any idea if this thing comes with a one-time use, or if it's unstable?" Sheppard pressed. He had asked the question half a dozen times already, but wanted to be sure that McKay wasn't worried.

Scratch that. If McKay wasn't worried, then there was cause for concern. If he was feeling mildly paranoid, then there was nothing to worry about.

"Honestly, Major? I have no idea on both those counts. It could do nothing, it could work, it could explode. And if it were possible, I'd've used a MALP to do this."

Mild paranoia. Good. "Well, when it's ready, you'll all retreat to a safe distance while I light the birthday cake."

McKay snorted and continued to work. "Safe distance?" he repeated, "There's no way we could retreat to a safe distance from the equivalent of a two-hundred-ton nuclear blast unless we gated and left you here."

"How thoughtful of you."

In short order, McKay removed his probing wires from the ZPM and device, and closed his laptop. "It's ready," he announced, getting to his feet, "just put the ZPM gently into the socket and push this button."

"Gotcha," said John before waving to Ford and Teyla. "Pull back!" he called. Ford nodded and ran off towards the Stargate alongside Teyla, with McKay scampering off a few paces behind them.

"Good luck!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Gee, thanks," John muttered sarcastically to himself. Nonetheless, he did as McKay had instructed, slipping the depleted ZPM into the open slot. It fell into place with a small click, and John looked it over before reaching for his radio.

"I'm firing it up now," he said, barely registering the acknowledgement from the other end. John sucked up a large breath of air, and, while still holding it, pressed the button. When it emitted a series of musical beeps and hums and lit up the ZPM faintly, he let himself exhale.

_Did you do it?_ McKay demanded.

"Yea….it's doing….something. I'm not sure what."

_I'll be right there._

He returned almost as quickly as he had run away and plopped himself down in front of the charger, examining it from all angles before clapping his hands together.

"It's charging!" he triumphantly proclaimed, "You see this series of words on the panel? It's displaying a countdown to when it'll be ready!"

"How long?"

"Uh…about seventy-two hours?"

"Okay. You and I'll head back to the city. Ford, Teyla, stay here. We'll all take turns babysitting. The moment you see it do anything strange, retreat to a safe distance and dial home."

"Understood," Ford answered.

* * *

Snape's demand for all previous assignments should he pass the OWL exam proved to be a boon for Harry. Even though it was only the first week, Snape was bombarding his NEWT class with so much work that it seemed like they were smack in the middle of the term and not at the start! On the bright side, the work was more than challenging enough to serve as study material, allowing Harry to kill two birds with one stone. 

Sitting cross-legged before the fireplace in Gryffindor Tower's common room, Harry scratched notes about Veritaserum onto spare parchment while balancing Hermione's Potions textbook on one knee. Ron had given up on his homework and was picking leaves out of the tail end of his broomstick while Hermione stared blankly into her Transfiguration textbook before snapping it shut.

"Malfoy can't get into the Chamber of Secrets. He doesn't speak Parseltongue and I seriously doubt he'll find someone that can, other than you," Hermione declared. Taking advantage of all the background noise from everyone else in the common room, Harry had filled his friends in on what he'd seen and heard over the week, and it had apparently seized Hermione's attention.

"But what if he's found a way around that?" Harry asked.

"Yea, there could be a spell or potion out there that lets you speak it, or at least makes you look like you do!" Ron hypothesized.

"Ron, you can't trick a magical seal!"

"Well, maybe he's going to Imperius a snake and make it open the Chamber?"

"Don't you think that's a little complex? Malfoy's never been very patient or careful about his pranks. Remember when he tried to scare Harry by dressing up like a Dementor? He never thought about how he would get off the Quidditch pitch without getting caught! What he is good at," Hermione added firmly, giving Harry a pointed look, "is antagonizing others into acting without thinking."

Harry knew that she was referring to him, and felt a wave of annoyance cross him that ended when Ginny broke into their small circle to interrupt.

"Ron, can I borrow your inkwell? I ran out," she asked, reaching for Ron's jar without even waiting for an acknowledgement. Ron swatted her hand away.

"Can't you see that I'm doing homework too?" he complained. As the request degenerated into a petty bicker, Harry tuned them out, suddenly remembering what Hermione had said suggested.

"What're you saying?" Harry asked, frowning.

"What I'm saying is that he's probably trying to trick you into opening the Chamber for him if anything."

Harry gaped. "Why would I do that?"

"What if you thought he was already inside? Don't tell me you wouldn't consider going in if you thought he had."

Harry looked at Ron to back him up, but his friend could only shrug in agreement. Ginny was in the middle of a tug of war with him, using his broomstick as the rope, and he was very occupied. "She has…a point…mate," he managed to answer between breaths before Ginny managed to yank the broom out of his hands triumphantly. Resigning to defeat, Ron handed over his inkwell to reclaim his Cleansweep.

They continued to throw around ideas for how Malfoy could get into the Chamber until Hermione stopped in mid-sentence. Following her line of sight, Harry and Ron spotted Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown entering the room from the halls looking a little pale-faced and flustered. The trio (plus one sister) exchanged confused looks as the two girls walked up to the fireplace and sat down on the floor. Ginny looked up from her scuffle with Ron and finally voiced the question all four wanted to say.

"Are you two all right?"

Lavender looked at Parvati, who shrugged in response. "Well…"

"We're fine, really. We just saw something…odd," Parvati summarised.

They stopped there and stared into the fireplace until Ron waved his hands to get their attention. "Aw, c'mon, you can't leave us hanging like that now!" he complained, closing his books. Seeing that they now that the attention of half the room, the sixth-years seemed to forget their apprehension.

"We were up with Professor Trelawney, reading the stars," Parvati began, "you know, up in the tower?"

"She was in the middle of telling us the influence the Pegasus constellation has on the weather when…she started shaking!"

"Her eyes rolled back and she started saying nonsense. I think she was having a seizure!"

"What did she say?" Harry demanded. Only a few people knew it, but while Professor Trelawney usually had the prediction skills of a broken teapot, she had actually made real prophecies, but only when she was in the state Lavender and Parvati were describing. Harry could already feel his heart begin to race and his throat to dry up as the anticipation rose. Trelawney had made two prophecies involving him before; had she now made a third?

Lavender gave Harry a curious look as though he were mad. "If you must know, she said some nonsense about a gate being breached and Slytherin's secrets being exposed-"

"And something about alliances, cullings-"

"And then she just kept saying, 'in three days time, in three days time'. She told us herself that she couldn't possibly have prophesized anything without realizing it, so it's all meaningless."

"But how do you know for sure?" Ginny asked, skeptical.

Parvati shot her an indignant look. "Because she's the _Divination Professor_. She's an expert on those sorts of things, which means that if she said it wasn't a prediction, then it wasn't one. Now could you please relax?"

Dozens of questions spouted from other people's mouths, giving Harry no time to respond even if he had wanted to. He took the opportunity to duck away with Hermione and Ron to the stairwell up to their beds.

"What d'ya make of it?" Ron asked. Hermione scoffed.

"All right, I'll admit that Trewlaney has made spooky prophecies before, like the one in the Ministry, but I think this one is absolutely meaningless."

"I'm not so sure Hermione," Harry admitted, "Malfoy's talking about getting into the chamber, and now Trelawney's is saying he'll get into-"

"No Harry. She said _someone_ will break through _some_ gate or other, not necessarily the Chamber's. You're seeing meaning where there isn't any. It could amount to nothing, or worse, you could cause it to happen! You know that sort of thing happens when you know the future," she persisted. Harry didn't miss the subtle reminder to his one experience in going back in time. He didn't have an answer.

"Or, it could mean that someone's trying to get into the Chamber of Secrets," a new voice countered.

Caught off guard, the trio turned to see Ginny next to them, Ron's jar of ink in hand, the black liquid dripping down her hand.

"Ginny," Hermione began. She was abruptly cut off.

"Don't try to tell me that's not what this is about! It's as obvious to me as to you three that's what Professor Trelawney was talking about. You know something else, don't you?"

"Ginny, don't worry about it. You're too young," Ron tried to argue. Ginny rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Ron, don't be daft! I'm fifteen! You can't say I'm too young to hear this. You three were eleven years old when you started…adventuring…whatever you want to call it!" The redhead crossed her arms and glared at them. "Either you let me in on this or I'll tip McGonagall off that you're going to open the Chamber!"

"But we're not!" Ron protested.

"You're going to if something happens!"

"Why do you care so much anyway?"

Ginny's face burned red and she looked away from them, answering their question quietly.

"Because I helped open it before."

Ron's frustration softened. "That wasn't your fault. You didn't know what that diary-"

"But I _should_ have! I was stupid! And I won't forgive myself if someone gets into the Chamber this time around! Now tell me what you know or I'll go straight to McGonagall now!"

Harry was at a loss for an alternative. Six years of being Ron's friend had shown him the boundless stubbornness of all the Weasleys, even Ginny. He decided to concede defeat.

"All right! We'll fill you in. But just remember, we're not even sure if something'll happen."

Ginny nodded gravely. "Don't get me wrong, I hope that nothing does. I just don't think that's very likely. This is Hogwarts, after all."

* * *

Under the prospect that they could well be in contact with home within the next few days, Elizabeth organised what she thought would be the most pertinent information to transmit in thirty-eight minutes or less. Under her, the expedition compiled a hodgepodge of preliminary reports (most to do with the existence of the Wraith and the ZPM charger, and their inventory work-up) and as many personal messages as could be spared. What had been anticipation and hope since the discovery of the recharger had now blossomed into sheer excitement that showed no signs of abating. And when a weary McKay carried a fully-charged ZPM back through the gate, the applause exploded, roaring through the gate room in waves and moving all the way to the mainland. The normally boastful Canadian seemed almost humbled by it. 

"There's a time limit as to how often we can use the charger. With the charging time included, I'd say about once every twenty-eight days or so. The ZPMs have enough power for a couple of trips each, so for now, I'd say we have a stable means of contacting Earth between once a week and once a month," McKay reported to Weir, beaming.

It was all more than they could have hoped for. After the recharger was sealed away in a safe room and a dial time was set for the following day, Elizabeth found herself being dragged to an impromptu celebration by Major Sheppard.

"Really John, I need to finish going over the mission reports. I've fallen far behind because of the ZPM business…"

"You almost make it sound like finding it was a _bad_ thing!" He retorted jokingly, earning a mock-glare from her.

"Hardly. It's the best thing to happen in weeks! But that doesn't mean that there aren't other things to deal with," she elaborated logically.

For once, he looked at her with complete seriousness, the kind he got when heading into a situation he thought was crucial.

"Maybe," he conceded, "but _not tonight_. Please? It'll help everyone else unwind if they saw their fearless leader do the same."

She knew he was only trying to get her to relax. He probably didn't care whether everyone else relaxed, and she knew she was far from fearless. But his firm grip on her wrist didn't slack, and she didn't want to deal with a 'you're working to hard' speech. No, she would have to make a concession to settle the matter. The negotiator-part of her told her that. And so she nodded.

As he led the way to the party, she was surprised to see Kavanaugh coming towards them. He looked sour as ever, but with an added air of determination. Elizabeth could only guess at what was going through his mind.

"Not coming to the party, Doctor? C'mon, we're sampling more of the champagne General O'Neill bestowed upon us!" Sheppard asked cheerfully.

Weir eyed the doctor's hands; one was gripping a CD case. "Are those the personal messages you wanted to send?" she asked, recalling that he hadn't submitted any despite expressing a wish to do so.

He nodded, tossing his hair out of the way. "I'll add the files myself since everyone else is probably off dancing."

"Wouldn't such a task be a little below your station-oomf!" Sheppard mocked, having heard about his refusal to work on the radios. He was rewarded with a swift kick in the shin by Weir.

The self-proclaimed genius watched the exchange with a smirk. "I wouldn't want to trouble anyone when I could do it myself," he said, inclining his head slightly in mock salute. Then he was gone around a corner towards a telepoint. Sheppard watched him go, frowning.

"He's up to something. I can feel it," he said cryptically. Weir ignored him.

"He was every right to send messages home as everyone else."

Sheppard didn't look convinced, but he shrugged and changed the subject, "Come on. At this rate, by the time we get there, McKay'll be done eating all the good food."

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain was as quiet as a tomb as the midway point of the graveyard shift came and went. Without all of the civilian experts and only two teams off world on archeological expeditions, Lieutenant Micheals thought that it was actually quite peaceful, as it usually was at that time of night. Still, his thoughts drifted momentarily to the words of advice General Hammond had given him when he had first been assigned to late-night Gate Control. 

_Don't let the peace fool you. Stay prepared and alert at all times. You're guaranteed to face a surprise or two at some point, I can assure you of that._

Back then, the office had been decorated with photos of grandchildren and their gifts, always with a small pile of papers neatly arranged on the desk. These days, the décor had changed, the paper pile was larger and messier, and the chair was the subject of a tug of war between the old General and the new. Despite this, the aura of command was unchanged in that room. General O'Neill had said something along the same lines to Micheals as Hammond had, if not in such an eloquent manner. And, as it turned out, they were both right.

The Stargate whirred to life, klaxons sounding as it spun.

"Unscheduled off world activation!" the officer manning the iris controls called. Within seconds, an armed team of soldiers ran into the room and aimed at the gate in time to see its trinium iris swirl closed. The wormhole materialized, and all that was left to do was to wait and see who was calling. Was it Baal? Were one of the SG teams in trouble? None of the possibilities that ran through Micheals' mind seemed very appealing, but there was one he had not considered.

"We're receiving an IDC," the officer informed him as the computer presented the numeric code and began determining its owner, "It's-"

Both Micheals and the other officer stared at the monitor, dumbfounded.

"Oh my God…"

"It's _Atlantis_!" Micheals exclaimed.

"We're receiving a transmission!" the officer continued, putting it on the monitor. A blurred but unmistakable image of Dr. Weir appeared.

_This is Dr. Weir of the Atlantis expedition calling Stargate Command. SGC, do you read…?_

"Call General O'Neill! Get him over here now!" he ordered the nearest unoccupied officer, who nodded and ran to a telephone. Micheals then took a deep breath and moved to answer the unexpected transmission.

* * *

The next few days breezed by in a haze of euphoria after the first call to Earth. Re-establishing contact had the effect of an energy boost on everyone. Elizabeth still found it hard to believe they had done so even when the appointed day came to contact Earth again. 

This time around, the activity on the SGC's side was far more measured and orderly. Cheyenne hadn't been expecting Atlantis to call in the middle of the night after months of silence, so the first precious thirty-eight minutes of gate time had been spent organizing what would be done on the next dial out. Now, the two sides traded information over files and video feeds while broken and depleted equipment was shipped back. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Weir found herself in a private conversation with General O'Neill, the former leader of Earth's flagship Stargate team and now commander of the SGC.

From the monitor in her office, he appeared to be relatively calm and happy to see her, but she couldn't help but notice a crease of irritation on his brow. Were the confrontations with the Goa'uld heating up? She tried to broach the subject with him, but he waved her off.

_You can read all about what's going on in our neck of the woods in the stuff we're sending ya_, he insisted, _Almost everything you need to know's there._

"And you're going to tell me what's not in there?" she asked, smiling wryly. He forced a smile too, but it was wiped away with his hand as he cupped scratched his nose – or at least pretended to. Hers melted away with his.

"General, what's going on?"

He shook his head and sighed. _What the hell do you think? Politics. And you're caught in the middle, figuratively I mean. Which is ironic. You aren't even on the planet._

From outside her office, the conversation seemed to continue forever. Elizabeth didn't stop talking (and didn't seem too happy about what she had to say either) until the time limit expired and the connection was severed. After the gate disengaged, she didn't move from her desk for over an hour, lost in thought.

One hour later, Atlantis' own flagship team assembled in the briefing room to discuss the implications of the breakthrough. John found it very odd that Elizabeth hadn't asked Bates or any of the other top-ranking members of the team to attend. That wasn't her style, and he wondered what had urged her to change.

If she planned on revealing her intent outright though, she made no sign of it when he settled into his seat. A quick exchange of looks with the others assured him that her actions had not gone unnoticed by the others.

"Our orders are as follows: We're to take the recharger to Earth so the SGC can recharge its ZPMs and then bring it back a month later. That way, we'll have a means of communicating and relaying supplies in case of emergencies. Rodney, you'll have to come along since you're the only one who really knows who to work it. I've also been asked to formally invite an Athosian emissary to join us," she explained, making eye contact with McKay and Teyla specifically.

"I will come. I speak for my people, and I have spent the most time with yours. I will ask Halling to assume my duties here while I am gone," Teyla offered. John groaned at the prospect.

"You're breaking up my team?" John asked, stating the obvious.

"Not by choice. I thought it fair to tell you all first," she elaborated.

"Well that just sucks," said Ford, "what about our mission?"

"It's on. Departure for Earth has been scheduled for six hours after your return."

"How thoughtful," John muttered. He watched Elizabeth's leader's mask falter a little at his comment and felt a small twinge of guilt that he did his best to thrust aside. He was angry, and he hadn't meant to upset her over it, but damn! How could she let the SGC do this? They were supposed to be functioning independent of them!

"So what am I going to do while they're gone?" he asked scornfully. Elizabeth hesitated before speaking.

"You'll be doing my job."

John blinked twice. "Come again?" He stared unbelievingly at Elizabeth while she crossed her arms.

"I have to go too. General O'Neill told me when he radioed in earlier," she explained blandly. John immediately rejected her explanation. She was leaving something out.

"That doesn't make sense, and you know it. There's no possible reason they would need to talk to you in person when everything's in the mission-"

Elizabeth raised her hand to stop him, cutting his sentence off. "I've been recalled, John," she said bluntly.

The news hit Sheppard with the force of a brick.

"_What_?" he blurted out loudly. Had the room not been soundproof, most of the people in the gate room would have undoubtedly dropped everything to listen in from there on. Elizabeth said nothing, pressing her lips together anxiously. "Why!"

"In short?" she sneered, "Leroy Jenkins."

"You mean General Jenkins?" John pressed.

Elizabeth nodded. "Apparently, he voiced some concerns about my performance as a leader so far when the SGC was skimming our reports."

"And he had trouble with what exactly? That we found Atlantis? That we warned Earth about the Wraith? That we found a way to recharge ZPMs?" McKay remarked.

"More like he didn't approve of waking the Wraith up, trading nuclear weapon schematics that could be used against us, losing our medical supplies and explosives, stuff like that."

"None of that was your fault," John insisted. He didn't need to remind anyone that a lot of that was his fault.

"It was my responsibility, though."

"Who are they to say this crap anyways? I've read SG-1's mission reports, it's not like they didn't make these kinds of mistakes!"

"O'Neill and Hammond agree. But it's not up to them, it's up to the U.N., and Jenkins did enough to move them into recalling me for a review."

"So you are not being relieved of command permanently," Teyla said. Weir scoffed.

"Officially? No."

"But unofficially it's already been decided," Ford finished flatly, clearly disgusted. Sheppard still couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"That's the most ridiculous…" McKay said, trailing off in anger. "Don't they care what we think? No one there thinks you're doing a bad job except-"

"Except for Kavanaugh. He started this, didn't he?" John filled in, recalling his conversation with him before the party. Weir nodded.

"His personal message was addressed to General Jenkins, so chances are, yes, he got the ball rolling."

"You can't go. You don't have to. You're a civilian, you can choose not to-"

"I'm a civilian who agreed to work within the military chain of command. If the President orders it, I could be dragged back and court martialed for ignoring the order."

"So that's it? You're just going to roll over and accept it!" John finished, his voice reaching its loudest volume yet.

Elizabeth glared at him, raising an eyebrow, and John was suddenly surprised at how quickly she could go from looking defeated to looking formidable.

"I think that's a stupid question, Major," McKay commented.


	6. Collision Course

**Collision Course**

Sunlight blossomed between clouds on the predicted day, but showed no signs of being foreboding, ominous, or unusual in any way. The Daily Prophet, which landed on the Gryffindor table at breakfast, was promptly passed around and read by three particularly apprehensive students, but its pages were devoid once again of anything related to the Death Eaters, or to a broken gate of any kind.

"You see?" Hermione said assuredly, feeling that the matter was settled, "nothing is going to happen."

"I wouldn't say that just yet Hermione," Ron warned. He was watching Harry, who had a letter in his hand, dropped into his plate by Hedwig. Harry tore at the envelope, read the brief note, and groaned.

"It's from Snape," he elaborated, folding the note in two, "my exam is _tonight_!"

Ron gaped. "That's not a fair warning! Less than a day to get ready?"

"Good thing you've been studying every day then. You'll do fine," Hermione insisted.

"I'm sure I'll do all right, but will it show? Snape is grading my exam this time around…." A thought occurred to him suddenly. "You don't suppose that Snape knows about the prophecy, do you?"

Hermione seemed confused at the idea. "He probably does. Parvati and Lavender aren't exactly secretive of good gossip. I'm sure most, if not all of the school knows by now, including Snape. Why?"

"What if he moved my test to tonight to keep me from catching Malfoy in the act?"

"You know Malfoy can't even get into the Chamber! If Snape did schedule your test for today based on it, it's probably because he thinks _you're_ going to go inside, not Malfoy. Besides, why do you keep assuming that's who Trelawney was talking about? Even more, why do you keep assuming she made an accurate prediction? Don't worry about it. Focus on being ready for your test!"

Harry didn't want to, but found that he had very little time left for last-minute studying in between classes anyways. With so much material to deal with at once with his class work factored in, the day practically flew by, and he was once again sitting at the Gryffindor table in what felt like no time at all, only this time he was eating supper, with less than thirty minutes before he had to be in the dungeons.

Scanning the elevated table, he noticed that while every other professor, including the recluse Trelawney, was present, Snape was conspicuously absent.

"Probably off making sure the exam'll be as painful as possible," Ron remarked sourly when he saw where Harry was looking. Harry nodded.

"This is daft," he muttered to himself, closing his copy of _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_, "I can't believe I thought it would be a good idea to try this." He felt more nervous than he had at his first Quidditch match.

"Just relax," Ron assured him, although the slightly hollow tone of his voice said otherwise.

Hermione arrived to supper late with Ginny, their arms laden with Harry's potion-making supplies. "I took the liberty of getting you some extra ingredients," the elder girl said, leaving the black cauldron behind the bench. Harry looked between them and Ron and was suddenly extremely grateful to have them as friends.

"I don't know how to thank you for helping me…"

Ron scoffed. "No need, mate. Well, if you really _want_ to, you can get me a broom cleaning kit for Christmas."

Grinning, Harry shoved aside his half-eaten meal and got to his feet and made a beeline for a staircase by the teacher's table that led to the dungeons. He was scarcely half a dozen steps away from it when he and half of the Great Hall's occupants were brought to their knees by tremors beneath the floor. Utensils clattered against the tables before tumbling to the floor, accompanied by plates and everything else next to them. The walls groaned with the stress of the movements, causing several students to scream, and one deeper, more resonant screech joined theirs and quickly drowned them out as everyone ran out of breath. The quake ended as abruptly as it had started, and all was still except the horrible scream. Harry realised that he knew that voice – it was Professor Trewlaney's.

Dumbledore and half the staff was at her side in an instant while others went to the tables below to check on the students.

"Sybil?" Dumbledore gently asked, clasping one of the Divination professor's bejewled hands. Harry jerked his head upwards as he rose to his feet in time to see Trewlaney gasp at the headmaster's touch, staring at the old man with her large, magnified eyes.

"The seal is broken," she whispered in her hoarse prophetic voice," they have come."

The staff stared at her, as perplexed as the Gryffindor students had been at Parvati and Lavender's tale. Dumbledore's expression became unreadable.

"What seal? Who has come?"

But it was too late. Her eyes were already rolling back behind her face, and within seconds she was aware of her surroundings once more.

"Oh….oh…is the earthquake over?" she asked, shaking.

"Yes, it is. I think you should go with Madam Pomfrey to the hospital wing. You seem to have hit your head," Dumbledore replied before addressing the students. He appeared completely unshaken by the quake and her strange behavior.

"Prefects, please escort your houses back to their rooms. Supper will continue there."

"Up you get, Potter. Your OWL exam is probably still on. You'd best get down to the dungeons." McGonagall's order broke through Harry's transfixed state, appearing next to him after checking on her charges.

Older students jumped to attention in the meantime and began herding the younger ones together. Hermione was in her element, and Ron reluctantly helped her, though it was clear from his sidelong glance that he'd rather go with Harry, who smoothed his robes down, gathered his potion supplies and turned on his heel to head for the Great Hall. Amidst the influx of dozens of students trying to go in different directions, no one noticed Harry duck into the girl's bathroom instead of the staircase to the dungeons.

The leaky room was completely empty. Even its usual tenant, Moaning Myrtle, was absent, much to Harry's glee. He didn't feel like dealing with the overemotional spectre if he could avoid it. After dumping his potion tools in an empty stall and double-checking to ensure that no one was approaching the lavatory, he stooped down at the sink to examine some piping he knew all too well. He quickly spotted what he was looking for: a silvery image of a snake etched into the copper. Harry closed his eyes and focused on trying to speak in the language of the snakes-

-And the door to the bathroom burst open. There was no time to hide, and Harry blankly wondered how he was going to get out of this one without being expelled until his broomstick was shoved into his face.

"How did you plan on getting out once you went in?" Ron asked, brandishing his own Cleansweep.

Harry flushed; in his haste to get to the Chamber, he had forgotten that its entrance was a very steep and slippery passageway. "I guess I didn't," he admitted wryly, collecting himself off the floor.

From behind Ron, Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a wonder you got this far unnoticed! Harry, the professors probably know you're here already."

"No they don't," Ginny claimed, closing the washroom door behind her and locking it. In her hands was what looked like either Fred or George's old broom. "I told McGonagall that I saw you go to the dungeons. That should buy us a little time."

"Not much, I'd wager. Snape'll come running if I don't make an appearance soon," Harry remarked. There wasn't much time left to do this.

Hermione regarded Harry solemnly once more. "Are you sure you want to do this? If you're wrong, you'll be losing more than an OWL grade."

He didn't answer her. "Open!" he snapped, his voice morphing into an elongated series of hisses. The drainpipe began to twirl out of sight exactly has it had four years earlier. Harry saddled his Firebolt and took out his wand. His answer was clear.

"Are you coming, or did you only come to try and talk me out of this?" he asked her gravely, his eyes blazing with frustration.

Hermione grumbled quietly about temporal shifts before taking out her own wand and clambered awkwardly behind Ron on his broom. "I thought I'd give it a try first, since we're probably fulfilling the prophecy by doing this if you're right," she defended.

"If the earthquake was caused by someone breaking into the Chamber, then the prediction's already come true," Harry insisted, giving a light kick off the ground to hover on his broom. "Either way, there's only one way to find out."

He dove headfirst into the dark tunnel at a breakneck speed, followed closely by the others. Hermione clutched Ron's waist and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"I hate flying on brooms!"

* * *

Thunder boomed directly above their heads as Sheppard his team stepped out of the Stargate and back into Atlantis. Looking upward, he saw dark and ominous cloud looming through the Jumper Bay openings, which were still broken. At the lower edges of the inner doors, he spotted two people preparing a tarp covering and relaxed. At least there would be no torrential downpours inside the Gate Room. 

He barely had time to give a thumbs-up to Weir, who was standing in her usual spot by the railing, when someone pulled McKay and Teyla aside to help them strip their equipment off hastily.

"With the Bay doors still wide open, Radek was concerned that the lightning or water might have an adverse effect on our equipment or the gate. So I pushed the departure time ahead," Weir explained.

"Wait, we're leaving _now_?" McKay spluttered, "but I don't have –"

"We're leaving once you and Teyla change and get your packs," she corrected. Rodney instantly relaxed, nodding.

"I'll be ready in about five or ten minutes."

John sighed. It was bad enough that he was going to lose two team members for a whole _month_ (Okay, maybe not McKay), but it was worse to lose Elizabeth indefinitely, not to mention to be stuck in her shoes until her replacement- no, he refused to believe she wouldn't be able to come back. She was a _diplomat_!

He took his heaviest pack off and walked towards her while Ford talked to Beckett about the details of the food deal they had managed to strike.

"So?" Elizabeth asked, "I take it thumbs-up is good?"

He nodded. "We'll have enough food for everyone for a month, or so Teyla tells me. In exchange, we help them build shelters in the mountains. Turns out they go there during cullings, but their old ones collapsed due to a recent earthquake."

"Good, I won't worry about anyone going hungry," she answered, clearly pleased with the outcome. Before he could say anything more, she pressed a compact disk into his hands.

"The security codes," she explained after her stared at her blankly for several seconds. John looked at the unlabeled disk and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. There was a sort of finality in holding it that he didn't like.

"I know you don't want to, but you'll do fine. I wouldn't trust this to anyone else," Elizabeth confided, seeing his face. Even if he didn't exactly share it at that particular moment, he felt touched by her continuing confidence in him.

"Dr. Weir? We're ready to dial out," Grodin interrupted. Elizabeth sighed and nodded before reaching for her earpiece.

"Teyla? Rodney? You have two more minutes before we leave," she warned before giving Grodin the signal to start punching in Earth's address. John counted down the sequence in his head – five, six, seven –

The Stargate burst to life on the eighth tap. "Chevron eight is locked," Grodin reported.

"SGC? This is Atlantis. We're transmitting our IDC now," Weir said into her mouthpiece. A small burst of static was followed by General O'Neill's voice.

_Copy that, Atlantis. The iris is now open. Come on down._

"We're sending the recharger through first via MALP now. We'll be along right after."

_Understood._

The MALP trundled ahead while towing its precious cargo in a carefully padded box. Elizabeth moved to fall in step behind it, but John suddenly grabbed her wrist with his free hand, yanking her back.

"You're coming back," he insisted quietly, "this whole damn city will make sure of it if you don't. Do it and I promise not to cause any trouble while you're gone."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "No trouble at all? I find unlikely when you're involved, especially since Teyla won't be here to restrain you either," she answered impishly. Sheppard rolled his eyes. Women.

"Okay, _less_ trouble than normal if you want to be realistic. Just come back!"

She laughed softly and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You didn't have to ask. I'll be back if it's the last thing I do," she vowed. John realized that he couldn't delay her any longer and released her from his hold. The lightning illuminated her form descending down the familiar stairs and the last bits of the MALP vanishing through the gate. Its thunder pealed through the air almost instantly afterwards as Teyla and McKay jogged back into the room, the former carrying some gifts and the latter, in a rare display of chivalry, carrying both of their packs.

"Let's go!" Elizabeth shouted over her shoulder. Her own bag was at her side as she stepped through the event horizon, and John wished for the thousandth time that they weren't leaving. Those thoughts were soon swept aside with another crash of thunder. Accompanying it, a blinding bolt of lightning cut through the open bay doors and struck the Stargate square on its top chevron.

Sheppard heard Weir scream, and the scream seemed to emanate from everywhere, both the Gate Room and through the radio. Only static followed.

"Elizabeth…" McKay whispered. Half of the crew stared at the gate in shock.

_Atlan…this is the SGC…detected a power surge on your…._ Carter's worried voice pierced through the static and shock, fading away each time the Atlantean gate sizzled with pent-up energy.

John clutched his earpiece, still in shock. "Dr. Weir, is she all right!" he demanded. The space between his question and the answer seemed to span an eternity, and he wasn't sure whether it was due to the static or to whether Carter was hesitating.

…_not here…surge…oh God…like Antarctica… _the colonel managed to transmit. All Sheppard heard was the first two words. She wasn't there! She was gone!

"Antarctica, Antarctica...oh, _shit_!" Rodney bellowed, realizing what Carter had meant.

"She's not talking about the beta gate incident, is she?" Grodin asked, panicking.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sheppard demanded.

"When a power overload happens on one gate, the exit gate address sometimes changes to any gate between the two points in order to even the energy spread," McKay rapidly explained, "Elizabeth's been shot out of a gate anywhere between here and Earth!"

"Which one? What's the address?"

"_I don't know_, John! I don't even know if she landed on a planet with breathable atmosphere!"

"We have to disengage the gate, it's going to overload the circuitry at this rate!" Grodin shouted. The event horizon wobbled with the extra energy as if it agreed and was planning on collapsing even as he spoke.

John felt like he was being torn in half. Every fiber in his body was screaming at him to go after her, as unsafe and crazy as jumping through an unstable wormhole was. She was his superior, his leader, his friend! He couldn't abandon her, but there wasn't even time to mount a rescue or even send a MALP!

Teyla's voice broke through his mind as it raced through his options. "John, do not even think about it!" she warned, apparently reading what was going on in his mind without any effort. He shook his head. This wasn't happening!

"She left you in charge, no one else has the command codes," Grodin argued, following John and Teyla down the stairs towards the gate. Rodney joined them in a cluster around the city's new commander, all sensing what he was contemplating on doing.

"We'll find her, we'll figure something out! But you can't risk it! Not when the wormhole's about to collapse!" Rodney insisted, his voice tight with emotion. But John could detect the emptiness in the statement. They had no way of knowing where Elizabeth was unless she dialed back, provided she could even do so. Either way, her chances of surviving were slim at best.

John's shoulders slumped in resignation to his decision and he passed the disk Weir had given him to Grodin. "Cut if off in a minute," he ordered grimly before turning his attention back to the wormhole.

"SGC, do you read?"

_Yea, what's your status?_ Jack asked quickly. John took a deep breath. He was going to need it.

"I'm leaving Grodin in charge," he simply said, switching his earpiece off as he moved towards the event horizon.

"Huh!" Peter spluttered, freezing in midstep meters away from Sheppard as he made a mad dash for the wormhole.

"John!" Teyla yelled. He felt her leap at him and stumbled with her sudden added weight. A second person crashed into the two of them a heartbeat later, and before John could realize that he had achieved his goal, the three people lost their balance and tipped backwards into the Stargate. It swallowed them whole, spat another shower of sparks, and finally disengaged, still smoking.


	7. The Trouble With Secrets

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all of its appendages are copyright to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Stargate SG-1/A are copyright to MGM Studios, Gekko, and its cast and crew. References to other fandoms are absolutely intentional.

**Notes**: I'm baaaack! I'd like to send a million and one thank-yous to everyone who has read the fic, left feedback and messages and generally hoped for more. I'm still as slow as a snail, but I hope you'll find your patience well rewarded. And if not...well, that's what the review button is for. Enjoy the next chapter!

**The Trouble With Secrets**

The bottom of the shaft was exactly as Harry remembered: dark, wet, littered with rubble and bones, and filled with a horrible stench. Nothing in the vicinity popped out to threaten him and his party, so they dismounted their brooms and left them near the exit. Hermione seemed torn between elation over being back on the ground and anxiety over being in the Chamber.

"Lovely," she remarked snidely after casting _Lumos_. Harry ignored her.

"This way," he indicated, although more for Hermione's benefit than anyone else's. No one was inclined to make conversation and the next few minutes were spent sloshing through the wet tunnels until they came upon a large pile of debris that filled most of the passage.

"This is the cave-in Lockheart caused with my wand," said Ron, "but didn't I clear a good part of this away?"

"The quake must've made more of the tunnel collapse." Ginny climbed up the pile, and jabbed her wand in as far forward as she could, casting her own _Lumos_ spell to get a view of the other side.

"The other side is clear. I think we can squeeze through!"

"Are you sure Gin-oh, never mind," Ron grumbled. His sister had already wriggled through without waiting for the others.

Several dusty climbs and one scraped hand later, all four students had crossed the rubble and were only a few paces away from the centre of the chamber itself, where the basilisk had been concealed. Strange echoes bounced around the room, and Harry had to restrain the urge to look. He copied the others and covered his eyes with one hand.

"You did kill it…didn't you Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yes. I distinctly remember it being very dead," Harry chanced a quick look at Ginny, who was turning very pale. He squeezed her shoulder, giving her a start.

"Sorry," he apologized before composing himself. "You know you don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," she countered, steeling herself. Seeing nothing else to do to prepare for what they could be walking into, Harry made the final turn and strode into the arcade, illuminating the room and chancing a look after he detected no foul hissing or fell incantations.

"What is it you're….whoa!" Ron came up to Harry and jumped backwards at the sight of a massive, falling-apart skeleton stretching several meters past them.

"The basilisk's…ew. We're standing in its remains," he realized, making a face. Harry was quick to agree. He and Ron were amidst decaying bones and dried-out snakeskin. The girls maintained a safe distance.

"It's just been rotting all these years…" Ginny said, crinkling her nose, "but where's its skull?"

She was right; they panned their lights to and fro from one end of the chamber to the other, but only found an oblique hole in the floor roughly the size of a manhole.

"I guess it feel down there," Harry remarked, peering into the black hole.

"Harry-" Hermione began.

"Another cave-in?" Ron wondered, cutting Hermione off.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted with the force of a drill sergeant, "_There's no one here_!"

* * *

John noticed a couple of things when he re-materialised. Firstly, it was pitch-black. Secondly, he was moving very fast, even given that he had _fallen_ into the gate. And thirdly, he hit what felt like solid rock before two masses fell on top of him. He swore. Damn Teyla and…

"Rodney?" The realization shook the cobwebs from Sheppard's befuddled brain and helped him regain his orientation. Stretching his arms tentatively, he sure enough came in contact with one lithe figure already rolling off him and standing up, and one not-so-lithe body just returning to complete mobility in a less graceful fashion.

"Yea?" Rodney grumbled.

John tentatively got to his feet. "You tackled me."

McKay groaned and rolled onto his back- or so John guessed. He still couldn't see a thing.

"Yea, remind me never to do something like that again," he answered sourly, "fat lot of good that it did us."

"Perhaps we should first make use of Major Sheppard's flashlight to determine our location and _then_ bicker," Teyla snapped. Sheppard acquiesced quickly and located his backpack and flashlight. In a few moments, they were scanning their surroundings.

McKay was still sprawled on the ground, but got a hand from a disheveled Teyla once she could see him properly. The Stargate and DHD loomed at one end of the room, and at the other side lay some rubble- something the event horizon grazed, Sheppard gathered. A streak of red clothing caused him to suck in his breath sharply and run for the debris.

"Elizabeth!"

The trio converged on Weir's limp body in seconds. Face down, bloodied, and partly covered by a heap of stone, it was fairly clear to Sheppard that her trip through the gate had been exceptionally painful, although he was relieved that sheer luck had landed them in the same location as her. He busied himself with lifting most of the stones off her right side while Teyla and McKay carefully turned her over.

"She is alive," Teyla reported once John had liberated Weir's body from the rocks. The Athosian frowned at the sight of the diplomat's arm. "Her arm is broken and she must have hit her head upon entry."

John tore open a first-aid kit, thankful he had still been wearing it when he went through the gate. As he tried to splint her arm (which proved to be very difficult in the dark with only a flashlight), the unconscious woman stirred.

"Rodney, dial Atlantis," Sheppard ordered. He picked up the flashlight and passed it to the scientist, his attempt at stabilizing Weir done.

McKay dashed to the DHD and Teyla moved away, although Sheppard couldn't discern where to. He let her go without question; her nocturnal Athosian habits made her more accustomed to wandering around in the dark than he and trusted that she knew what she was doing.

"Elizabeth?" he persisted, supporting her head with one hand.

"Ugh…John?" she mumbled as she tried to sit up. Sheppard held her down.

"Hey, stay still. You're injured," he told her.

"I noticed," He couldn't see her clearly, but Sheppard was sure she was glaring at him. "What happened?"

"The gate overloaded. McKay can probably explain it better than me."

"Hmpf."

"What?" Sheppard was taken aback by her apparent anger over her rescue.

"You followed me through."

"And…?"

"You promised to behave."

Sheppard grinned sheepishly and scratched his head. "Do I get points for effort?"

Weir chuckled. "No. Get us home and I might forget about it."

"That shouldn't be a problem. McKay is dialing…" he trailed off. He'd been sitting with Weir for at least five minutes. It didn't take _that_ long to dial the Stargate.

"McKay? What's taking so long?"

Rodney pointed the flashlight directly in John's eyes, blinding him temporarily. "I can't dial Atlantis."

Sheppard frowned. "Then dial Earth! You said we could be in either galaxy, right?"

Rodney scoffed and redirected the flashlight's beam at the DHD. Its outer casing was propped open.

"The control crystals have been removed. I can't dial _anywhere_."

"So we're stuck here?" Weir asked weakly.

"Unfortunately…yes. And no, I don't even know where we are."

"We are underground!" Teyla replied from across the cave. The flashlight met her a few meters away, where her ear was pressed to the wall. Above her was a hole in the ceiling, large enough for someone to slip through but too high to reach.

"Well, shit," McKay swore.

"Gee. That's very optimistic of you," Sheppard snapped.

"Well _excuse me_ for not being a paragon of happiness, but this is bad! _Very_ bad! We're stuck in a hole with a nonfunctional Stargate, no way to call for help, and no way to climb out!"

"Will you calm the hell down? We'll find a way out. It'll just take some thought-"

"Like what, Major? Teach ourselves how to _fly_?"

"_I don't know_, but-"

"_Be quiet_!" Teyla hissed forcefully. It worked; the two men stopped arguing to look at her. She had pressed herself against the wall she had been listening to as if to avoid being seen.

"Someone is coming."

"Human or Wraith?" Weir stared up at the opening, trying to discern any movement on the other side.

Teyla closed her eyes and did not respond for a brief moment. "I do not sense any Wraith."

"Let's not take any chances," Sheppard suggested. McKay turned off the flashlight, joined Elizabeth and John at the rubble and ducked down.

At first, there was nothing to indicate that people were headed towards them. No lights appeared from the crevice above, nor did any sounds filter down. But then, faint echoes of footsteps arose, soon joined by youthful voices no one had expected.

"…ew…standing on its remains." His voice bore a distinct accent.

"….rotting…but where's its skull?" a second voice asked, this time a young girl.

A small amount of pebbles tumbled through the hole in the ceiling as a teenage boy appeared at its mouth and peered inside. The faint silvery glow of light illuminated the contours of his lanky body and reflected off his round glasses. While he couldn't see his face, Sheppard thought that he couldn't be more than eighteen.

"Harry!" a third voice, another girl, shrilly yelled. The boy-Harry-John surmised, looked up from the hole in surprise.

"_There's no one here_!" she pointed out, her voice laden with severity. John and Rodney quickly exchanged looks. Taking one last look at Weir, who had fallen silent, the Canadian made up his mind before an order could be issued.

"Oh _yes there is_!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

* * *

Caught completely off guard, Harry practically toppled into the hole and was only saved by a pair of hands that dragged him backwards. As he recovered from his near-fall, two more faces appeared at the mouth of the opening. McKay took the liberty of turning the flashlight back on.

"Yea, hi! How are you?" he continued.

"Who are you?" Ron asked.

"I'm a man stuck in a hole!" McKay snapped back.

"McKay!" Teyla admonished before stepping into the light, "My name is Teyla Emmagan. Please, one of our group is injured!"

Ron eyed Teyla suspiciously. "How many are you? And how did you get down there?"

"There's four of us," John yelled from the shadows. After a quick nod to Teyla, who went to sit with Weir, he appeared in the range of Rodney's flashlight.

"I'm Major John Sheppard. We came through the Stargate. It was kind of an accident."

"The what?" Harry asked.

"Star. Gate. The big round thing in the background. It lets you go to other planets?" Rodney offered. When the teens only continued to stare blankly at him, he sighed in frustration.

"Look, your people probably buried it here and forgot about it. Long story short, it's broken, we can't go back, and we need help. _Now_!"

Ron waved him off. "All right! We'll get you out of there. Keep your shirt on," he exclaimed, withdrawing his wand from his robes. "_Wingar_-"

Hermione seized his arm in a flash and started to drag him away. "We'll…urf…find some rope…just a moment-Ron!"

As they disappeared from sight, John and the others exchanged looks.

"Something's fishy," he stated.

"Can you blame them for acting odd? We did come out of nowhere. Rodney's probably right. They don't know about the gate…" Elizabeth answered weakly before trailing off as she tried to stay awake. Sheppard helped her sit upright before looking back up at the opening, realizing that he didn't think that was it.

Twenty feet above them, Ron finally managed to free himself from Hermione's surprisingly iron grip. "What're you doing? You don't believe them?" Ron hissed angrily to her.

"That's not the problem Ron! Did you see them? Actually _look_ at them?" Hermione retorted.

Ron shook his head. "What're you on about?"

"Hermione's right," Harry said, suddenly feeling quite nervous, "They're _Muggles_!"

"American military, by the looks of it," Hermione added, "I mean, _Major_ Sheppard?"

The full significance of the unexpected arrivals started to sink into the students' minds.

"Muggles…in Hogwarts! How is that possible?" Ginny exclaimed in hushed tones, "what'll the Ministry say?"

Harry's mind was going a mile a minute, but only option presented itself. "We need to get Dumbledore. Now. Ginny-"

"You'll have to go. You're the only one who can open the Chamber again," she pointed out.

"Right. I'll go then. But how are we going to get them out? We can't leave them down there, but we can't use any magic in front of them or we'll be breaking the Statute!"

"We'll figure something out! Just go!" Hermione insisted.

Nodding, Harry tore off back towards the entrance. Once he was out of sight, Hermione stooped down to examine the rotting basilisk carcass.

"Might be able to transfigure the skin into a rope," she prodded the scaly remnants with her wand and wrinkled her nose.

"Just don't let them see or hear you!" Ginny hissed back as she returned to the hole to address the stranded Muggles.

"We've sent for help, and we're, um, trying to find a rope. Okay?"

Sheppard disappeared beyond the torch's light for a moment and returned with an open bag, producing a long cable from it. "I might be able to help with the second part."

"Try throwing it up!"

It was clear from the first toss that there was no way Sheppard could throw it high enough. Ron looked crossly at Hermione, but she didn't seem discouraged, and motioned to him to elicit another throw.

"Erm…why not give it another go?" he awkwardly asked.

"Oh…kay…" Sheppard was unconvinced it would be worth the effort, but wound up as if he were trying to throw a football anyway and tossed the bundle of cables again.

Hermione flicked her wand and spoke as quietly as she could. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The mass of rope suddenly shot upwards high enough for Ron to snatch it out of the air.

"Great! Find somewhere to hook it up," Sheppard asked before examining his arms, stunned, and clearly as confused as the others. In the background beyond their view, Hermione bewitched the cord to latch snugly onto a pillar. As the students lowered it down, Sheppard tried to make small talk.

"So! How did you know someone was down here if you didn't know about the gate?"

After a moment's thought, Ginny answered despite Hermione's unapproving stare. "There was an earthquake. It was short, but pretty strong. We don't get those often around here so we knew something was off. I'd be surprised if half of Scotland didn't feel it."

Suddenly, the Muggles were staring intently at Ginny with their full attention. "_Scotland_?" McKay repeated, "You mean we're in Britain?"

After an uncomfortable pause, all three students answered at once.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Maybe?"

"_Ron_!"

* * *

Harry staggered through the rubble blocking the Chamber's entrance, paying only a minimum of attention to where he was surroundings.

Muggles! In the school! Whatever the Stargate really was, and why those people were there, it was bound to turn ugly. They needed to get Dumbledore, and fast.

Before he knew it, Harry arrived back at the entrance and went sailing back up the shaft to the bathroom on his Firebolt. The room was still blissfully empty, the only sound being an occasional drip from a tap and the creaking copper pipes. He tossed his broomstick into the nearest stall as the Chamber slid shut, dashed for the door at top speed, yanked it open, slammed into something and fell over backwards.

"Oof!" The collision knocked Harry's glasses off, forcing him to fumble for them. What had he run into? There wasn't any wall blocking the bathroom door…

As he finally got them back into position, he froze, seeing not what he had hit, but who. It wasn't a wall.

"Oh no."

Snape had already collected himself from the floor by the time Harry started to get to his feet. He needn't have bothered; within seconds the Potion's Master seized Harry by the collar of his robe and pinned him to the wall. His very eyes wee seething with barely controlled rage.

"How. _Dare_. You," Snape spat, his hooked nose less than an inch from Harry's face. Harry tried to squirm free, but only found his mobility even more restricted with each attempt. He realized that if he wanted to get everyone out of the Chamber as fast as possible, he would need to convince Snape to help instead of throwing him off, which would take far more time and effort given his current mood. Harry inwardly groaned.

"You lied. You manipulated. And worse, _you wasted my time_!"

"I didn't lie about my OWL tes-"

"Missing your exam, disobeying the Headmaster's orders after the earthquake-"

"There's a reason I-"

"And opening the _Chamber of Secrets_?"

"Look, we don't have time for this! There's people down there!"

"Oh, so you weren't alone in this little venture? I won't just be expelling you? Splendid! I suppose the other two of your insufferable Trio are the ones still down there-"

Harry snapped.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR A BLOODY MINUTE! THERE ARE MUGGLES IN THE CHAMBER!"

Snape opened his mouth to unleash another tirade but stopped short once Harry's words sunk into his brain. The concept was so shocking that he could only respond in monotone.

"What?"

Harry didn't waste any time once he had Snape's attention. Admittedly, this was the last person he wanted to divulge information to, but what choice did he have at this point?

"There's four Muggles in a cavern inside the Chamber. Hermione reckons that at least one is American and military. One's seriously injured."

So Miss Granger _is_ down there," Snape released Harry, who dropped with a thud. "Potter, that is a ridiculous story."

"It's not a story!" Harry shot back. Snape didn't appear to be convinced.

"Look, you don't believe me? I'll show you! And I swear, if no one is down there, then by all means, expel me! But you won't in the end because I'm not lying!"

Snape said nothing, scrutinizing the younger man with such a burning gaze that Harry had trouble resisting the urge to look away. Only sheer pride stopped him from breaking eye contact. Then, unexpectedly, the bathroom door creaked.

Both professor and student jerked their heads to the side, but Snape identified the stranger first.

"Draco!" At the sound of his name, the blonde slinked in with a nervous grin.

"Sir!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Snape demanded, suddenly abandoning Harry and converging on his new target. Draco paled, but held his ground and said nothing.

"We'll discuss this later," the Slytherin head announced, "fetch the Headmaster and bring him here. Do not tell _anyone_ what you saw or heard here but him!"

"But I could go down there with Potter and-"

"Get. The. Headmaster! NOW!" Snape's tone left no room for negotiation.

Sullenly, Draco departed as quietly as he had appeared. Harry closed his eyes and internally groaned again. Hermione had been right all along; Draco had simply been waiting for Harry to open the Chamber for him. Now he knew all about the Muggles as well. It couldn't get much worse.

Once Draco was gone, Snape picked up Harry's wand and gestured to the sink before offering it back to Harry. "For your sake, Potter, this fanciful story better be true."

Biting back a venomous reply of his own, Harry snatched back his wand and caused the Chamber to open. Snape summoned a broomstick from the bottom before throwing Harry's Firebolt in his general direction. After a moment of awkward consideration, he glared at Harry and the broom in his own hand.

"…After you."


	8. Secrets Revealed

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all of its appendages are copyright to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Stargate SG-1/A are copyright to MGM Studios, Gekko, and its cast and crew. References to other fandoms are absolutely intentional.

* * *

**Secrets Revealed**

"How much farther is it?" Rodney demanded before stubbing his elbow for the third time. "Ow!"

Up ahead, John watched Snape grit his teeth and clench something within the folds of his robes. This time, the 'professor' did not reply. He wasn't exactly the most friendly person in the world, but at this point even John couldn't blame him. Rodney was annoying. He hadn't even offered to take a turn supporting Elizabeth along the way.

Behind him, John picked up a frantic exchange of whispers from the teenagers. Curiosity piqued, he slowed his pace by a notch to listen in, pretending that the strain of half carrying Weir was getting to him. She caught on quickly and started to drag her feet.

The redheaded boy sounded the most upset. "Why'd you have to go and get _Snape_? He's going to expel us all!"

"He got to me before I could even leave the bathroom! So did Malfoy!"

John couldn't help but turn his head at the mention of a bathroom. Harry didn't strike him as the type to put off an emergency to make a pit stop at the head. Unfortunately, his snap reaction caught Hermione's attention, and she promptly kicked the boys into silence. She caught John's eye and did her best to smile encouragingly, although she wound up looking more like the Cheshire cat.

"It's not much farther. Just a short walk and then-oh. Professor, how are we going to, erm, _get up_?"

"The same way we came down, Miss Granger."

All of the students stopped dead in their tracks and gaped openly at Snape. "_What_?!"

Snape never even looked back. "Stop asking questions! It won't matter in the long run for them."

The tension in John's shoulders climbed up to a new level as he and Elizabeth looked at each other wordlessly, communicating their suspicion.

Yet another cryptic statement. He was getting really tired of that, along with all the other warning signs that something was going on. He would've been able to dismiss it had it just been the physics-defying rope. But no, lots of other things felt wrong. The teens showed little fatigue after pulling several adults out of a cavern on their own, as if some invisible force was helping them. They were also always talking in half sentences, censoring everything they were saying. And all of the damn cryptic statements...it was pissing John off, and the rest of his team was equally aware of it.

Had this just been a typical off-world mission, he'd've already lost his patience and simply waved his P90 around in order to get some answers (He grinned at the thought because he could also imagine Teyla and Elizabeth admonishing him for doing so). Unfortunately, he didn't have a gun at the moment and this wasn't an ordinary mission in Pegasus. This was supposed to be _Earth_, although he was starting to doubt that. More importantly, Elizabeth's injuries needed proper attention, especially her concussion. Having trouble staying awake after a head injury was never a good sign.

In short, John and his team were totally dependent on the charity of a bunch of enigmatic people who were not being very forthcoming. And, as the two groups came to a stop at the end of the passage in a room containing nothing but a couple of brooms, he decided that the situation officially sucked.

McKay walked into the middle of the room and looked at the steep incline above before whipping around to accuse their guides. "What the hell is this?"

"The way out." Snape seized the brooms with disdain and chucked two towards Harry. "Go up in pairs. Take one of them with you."

Ron and Hermione climbed onto a second broom. After taking one more look at them, they kicked off and rocketed up into the air. A moment later, the broom tumbled down the shaft, missing McKay by an inch.

John couldn't speak; neither could the others. Complete and utter silence filled the space as they tried to process what they were seeing.

McKay was the first to break out of his stupor. "That's...impossible...what sort of propulsion...impossible!" He continued to splutter half phrases while staring at the broom, unable to accept it.

John, on the other hand, couldn't help but break into a huge grin. He wasn't shocked because he couldn't accept it, no. He was in shock because a childhood dream had just come to life right before his eyes. He'd just watched someone fly on a broomstick. _Fly_. They could _fly_, for _real_. No machines or technology, just a complete defiance to the law of gravity. Only one thing was worth saying in response to that sight.

"Can I ride one?"

"Uh..." Harry uneasily looked to Snape for an answer, but he just turned his back and flew up the shaft in a slightly erratic zigzag without offering to take anyone with him.

Based on that, John was sure Harry would say no, but instead Harry presented him with a sleek red broom. "I don't think it'll work for you. You're not...one of us. But you're welcome to try." The look in Harry's eyes explained it all. They shared a common bond that Harry was picking up on: they loved to fly. John wouldn't of denied Harry the opportunity to try either, had their positions been reversed.

He proceeded to show John how to stand and then took a second broom. Ginny took the third.

"McKay, get behind Ginny."

"_I'm not going on one of those things_! You expect me to ride a broom? No way!"

"_McKay_."

McKay finally obliged and clambered did has ordered, glaring at John the whole time. "You do realize how stupid we look?"

John took a second to assess this comment. A small part of him agreed that standing with a broom between your legs made for a pretty stupid sight. The greater part of him didn't care, and that part made him shrug his shoulders.

He kicked off, followed by Harry and Ginny's brooms, and much to his and their surprise, didn't stop rising.

After a few experimental moves, John felt completely at ease. It was heaven incarnate. The broom seemed to respond to his very thoughts. It was just as much fun as flying a Puddle Jumper, if not better since he could feel himself rushing through the air. It was intoxicating to say the least!

"Where can I get one of these?" he asked, slowing to a hover. Harry shook his head.

"You can't. Sorry."

"Damn." The rest of the situation came back into focus. He tipped forward to begin his descent. "Come help me get Teyla and Elizabeth."

John's dream come true ended once all nine of them had cleared the shaft and the need to stay on the broom was over. An elaborate sink slid into place over the hole from which they had emerged, making him realize that they were in a public washroom. _At least that's one explanation down_, he thought.

"Nice Cozy. Cheerful! Whose idea was it to put that in a bathroom?" said McKay as he tested the nearest tap.

The toilet in the nearest stall flushed and a man emerged that John could only describe as a wizard. He was every bit the part- long white hair and beard, half-moon glasses, and long purple robes fasted with a leather belt.

"That is a rather interesting question," the wizard said to McKay as he proceeded to wash and dry his hands, "I would love to discuss architecture with you, but this does not seem to be the ideal time or place to do so. Firstly, some introductions are in order. I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the school you have wandered into. I believe you are already acquainted with Professor Snape and our students."

John introduced his group once more for Dumbledore's benefit. At the mention of Elizabeth's name, the old man raised his eyebrows and shook her hand.

"A pleasure. Are you by chance the same Elizabeth Weir who mediated a certain nuclear non-proliferation treaty?"

Elizabeth returned the handshake with her good hand "I am."

"Hm. That makes this both easier and more complicated."

She opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly reached for John's shoulder again, unable to maintain her balance.

He took on her weight, eager to get moving. She needed to rest. "Can't this wait?"

"Of course. Dr. Weir's health is our priority, Major. I should warn you though: There are...complications that we will have to discuss first thing in the morning."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. We'll discuss it now. Whatever secret you are hiding, you need to either explain it or justify it. I can't trust you in good faith if you're going to continue trying to fool us." She looked at John out of the corner of her eye, and he got the hint. Don't try to change her mind.

Dumbledore stroked his beard for a moment, deep in thought, and then nodded in agreement. He withdrew a wand (for it could only be a wand if he was a wizard, John decided) from within the folds of his robes, a move that immediately prompted Snape to protest.

"Headmaster! You cannot tell them!" he placed himself in front of Dumbledore, blocking the headmaster's view of John and his team.

Dmbledore placed a hand reassuringly on Snape's shoulder and smiled. "Tell them what? Look at them, Severus. Look at what Major Sheppard was able to do. Look at their faces. They already know."

The professor's expression became even more sour as he removed Dumbledore's hand from his shoulder as if it were something to be abhorred. "I will have no part in this, Albus."

"I understand. Can you at least ask Madam Pomfrey to treat our guests for their injuries?"

"Yes, but we have none of the necessary medicines to treat concussions. I have not made any since the _season_ for that sort of injury has not begun."

"I will see to it then."

Snape opened the bathroom door and hesitated, looking at Harry and his friends. "And what of their transgressions?"

"I will see to that as well. Good night Severus."

But he was already gone.

"Are you certain that he will not expose your indiscretion?" asked Teyla.

"Severus may not like it, but yes, I believe that he will be silent." Dumbledore flicked his wand at the door, and a tiny trail of silver sparks shot out of the wand's tip and into the door's keyhole, which locked with a small click.

"He is correct. I cannot tell you what you want to know. It is a secret protected by our highest law, one that we are bound by. I am sorry for the deception, but I suspect that you are already familiar with keeping secrets. I think you understand."

He approached John and Elizabeth and presented them with a rolled up piece of parchment. "I cannot, however, change what you are seeing. By the way, you dropped this."

"What-" Sheppard started to ask, thinking that Dumbledore was a tad too eccentric for his tastes. He stopped short as he unrolled the vellum and everyone crowded around to see what it contained.

In the centre of a page filled with tight Carolingian script was a small but perfect diagram of the Stargate, right down to the address symbols.

Elizabeth ran one finger down the first few lines of the document, reading. "It's Latin. It describes the Stargate being buried after an attack of some sort." She looked up from the parchment at Dumbledore. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it in our archives. Judging by your familiarity with the subject, I am correct that it is yours? On a completely unrelated note, it was written by one of the founders of this school."

John looked up from the scroll. "That means..."

"You're Ancients!" McKay finished.

"Is that what you call us? We use the terms wizards and witches. Our society, as I'm sure you've deduced, has kept itself secret from the rest of the world for centuries."

"Why have you not made use of the Stargate?" Teyla asked.

Dumbledore took the parchment back and carefully rolled it up. "Because no one knows that it exists. My recent research has led me to believe that knowledge of the Stargate, as you call it, has faded from both collective memory and historical records, save for vague references in a few Ancient Egyptian papyrii and a few scrolls from the 10th century. Nothing else about the gate seems to have survived."

"How long have you known about this?" Weir asked.

"Not long. This brings me to the greater complication." The headmaster's tone turned somber. "To be honest, I had always hoped that our societies would reconnect. The Stargate could have been the perfect rallying point since it is a part of our forgotten past but, ironically, now falls into the domain of Muggles- that's what we call you. With your skills as a diplomat, Dr. Weir, I'm sure we could've at least opened a dialog that didn't end with us erasing the other party's memories."

John tried hard not to think about that possibility. It was distasteful to say the least, giving him mental images of forgetting all about the Stargate program or being locked up in a padded room clothed in a straightjacket. They would not be leaving here with erased memories. He wouldn't let it happen. He _couldn't_.

Dumbledore continued. "The greater problem at the moment is a wizard who calls himself Voldemort. He is currently at odds with our government and the majority of our people."

"He hates Muggles. Wants to kill them all," Hermione added, breaking the teenagers' unusual silence.

"And I believe that he is aware of the Stargate's existence. It is no coincidence that we have an interest in the same topic: I started my research after I caught wind of his interest. The problem now is that you all not only know where it is, but how to use it. That makes you very appealing targets, and that is why you must return to your society as quickly and quietly as possible. If word gets out that you are here, he will know, and he will do everything in his power to capture you."

He stopped his long speech and unlocked the door. "Have I said enough to gain your trust?"

"Yes. Thank you," Elizabeth replied, "you're taking a huge risk for us, and we are grateful."

"Excellent. Dobby?"

John raised an eyebrow. "What's a Dobby?"

Not two seconds after John posed this question did a 'it' pop into the room, literally, loudly, and sporting two very colourful socks around its thin scraggly legs. To him, he looked like a cross between a Gremlin and an anorexic Yoda.

"Yes Mr. Dumbledore sir! And Harry Potter!" it squealed in delight, knocking a knitted hat off its head by accident.

"Hello Dobby." Harry's reply was half-hearted.

McKay circled Dobby as he would with an unknown piece of technology. He looked as though he was going to go crazy from the sight of all these things well before the threat of memory erasure became real. "What exactly _is_ Dobby?"

"I am sure that Dobby will be more than happy to answer any questions you may have," said Dumbledore before catching the creature's eye. "Dobby, please escort our guests to some spare rooms and our students back to theirs. Unnoticed."

John didn't believe for a second that such a large and odd group of people could slink through any building unseen, but Dumbledore's request didn't faze Dobby in the least.

The elf walked purposely over to an innocuous corner of the bathroom and motioned for everyone to follow, beaming. "Certainly sir! No one will see us! This way please, Harry Potter, friends, and guests!"

"Uh..." John looked to Harry for answers since he seemed to be a little more familiar with Dobby, but the teenager looked just as confused as John felt. So did the teens, including Hermione.

"Dobby, isn't the way out on the other side of the bathroom?" she asked with the kind of tone one would use with a fussy child.

He (John thought it was a he, but honestly wasn't sure) looked offended. "Not the secret way!"

Dobby gently prodded the wall, which responded by rippling and glowing with a faint shimmer. His finger penetrated the centre of the ripples by a milimeter, and then pop! A section of the wall vanished, replaced by a narrow passage that zigzagged into and past the wall itself.

"How did you..." John was so shocked that he could only stare incredulously at the passage. He had seen a lot of strange things ever since moving to Pegasus, but even this was different. At this rate, maybe he would go bonkers before McKay.

"No questions sir, please!" Dobby seized John's pants and stared at him with huge puppy-dog eyes, "The magic is a secret I cannot tell!" He gasped in horror at what he had said and proceeded to slam his head repeatedly on the floor. A couple of slams later, he managed to restrain himself, forcing his demeanor back into a cheerful one.

"Follow Dobby sirs and ladies!" he said before entering the passage at a quick pace. John and Harry's groups followed, although Harry himself held back.

"Erm, professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I thought you ought to know. Malfoy heard some of what I said to Snape. He knows that they're Muggles."

"Indeed, I surmised as much when he was the one to fetch me. I will see what can be done to undermine his claim should the Ministry take an interest." Dumbledore unlocked the bathroom door. "I probably don't have to tell you, but don't tell anyone about Major Sheppard and his associates."

Harry grinned. "Of course not." He stepped across the threshold and into step behind John. On the other side of the bathroom, the door closed, but when John turned around, the stone wall had rematerialized.

"Who's Malfoy?" he asked Harry.

"He's in my year," Harry explained, "he has the same opinion of Muggles as Voldemort."

_Great, we have to fight off teenagers who want us dead on top of adults who want to kill us and adults that want to wipe our brains, and they all have supernatural powers_! John thought to himself. He took Elizabeth again by her good arm to support her as they walked, and followed Dobby. _At least it can't get any worse_.

How wrong he was.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: I hate this chapter. I hated writing it. I went through about ten drafts, trying to find an interesting way to get the meat of the exposition done without making you all fall asleep, and I'm still not happy with it. But, the story must continue! I don't like these half-year hiatuses any more than you do, I'm sure.

"Nice. Cozy. Cheerful!" is a line from a _ReBoot_ episode called 'Wizards, Warriors, and a Word from our Sponsor.' I love _ReBoot_. Don't mind me.


	9. The Other Side of Fate

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all of its appendages are copyright to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Stargate SG-1/A are copyright to MGM Studios, Gekko, and its cast and crew. References to other fandoms are absolutely intentional.

* * *

**The Other Side of Fate**

In the span of a thunderclap, Aiden Ford's life completely changed. He now had everything he'd been yearning for ever since he joined the Stargate program: a quick promotion to team leader and a chance to call the shots on an important mission. People were now looking to him for answers and orders, trusting him to make the right decisions.

He didn't want it anymore. The price – watching Sheppard, Weir, McKay, and Teyla all get sucked away – it was too much. He'd give it all up immediately and without question, and happily vow never to ask for it again.

He'd do anything to get them back, or even just to know that they were safe.

But to wish for that now? It was too little, too late, and of little help. He should've been careful what he'd wished for in the first place, he thought. He should've known that the universe would make good on his wish in the worst way possible. This wasn't the first time it had done so.

Carson's voice broke through Aiden's reflections, returning his attention to the subdued hustle of the Control Room. "I know _exactly_ what you're thinking. Don't." The warning was impossible to miss.

Aiden no longer had the energy to be cheerful and snapped back. "Why not?"

"Because thinking about what ifs won't do them or you any good. And," Carson added somberly, "it certainly isn't making me feel any better, so I can't expect it's doing any wonders for you."

Aiden nodded once before burying his face in his hands as a new thought replaced the old one. "I don't think I can do this Doc," he confessed, "I'm not ready. I thought I was...but now? I know I'm not."

"I suspect Peter feels the same way. He's a scientist, not an administrator," Carson answered, looking towards Grodin's usual place in Ops. He wasn't there, but instead in the briefing room, surrounded by a number of other scientists, and fielding a debate about how to track down Sheppard and the others.

Apparently, Carson never saw Peter and himself staring blankly at each other in shock, unsure of what to do in the immediate wake of the accident. That had come to a conclusion once the rain had started pouring through the unfinished tarp covering and into the Control Room, spurring everyone back into action.

Peter had slapped him on the back and said, "If _I'm_ in charge of the expedition, then _you're_ in charge of the military!"

Bang. Instant promotion, followed by a hasty look at what their leaders had been working on. Now Aiden knew how Sheppard had felt when he had assumed command.

Sheppard. McKay. Weir. Teyla!

"Do you think they're okay?" he asked the physician.

"Aye, I do. Sheppard's luck'll see to that."

The gaggle of people swarming in the briefing room broke up into twos and threes, all still talking in the mile-a-minute fashion that was standard for Atlantis researchers. Peter extricated himself from the centre and went to Aiden and Carson, looking very weary.

"Well, we've set up a timetable for repairs and established a tentative search plan of the known Pegasus network," he said, handing a PDA to Aiden to peruse. He tried to skim it quickly but found it too long for him to memorize in one bout.

"Erm...I'll...look over this and assign teams. Once the gate is fixed we can start. How long until it's working again?"

"A day or two, perhaps. Nothing is broken, the gate just needs time to cool and reset before we can reconnect it to the naqadah reactors afterwards."

"So we'll start looking then. Maybe we can ask Halling if any of these addresses are familiar to him." He looked at the list once more. "Hey- this one rings a bell for me. The one for-"

Aiden stared at Peter. "The one for the Genii home world."

"Yes." There was nothing else Peter could say.

"Great. How are we going to convince them to let us on their planet? I'm not about to barter with more weapons." Part of Aiden also wanted to ask, how can we trust them? What if they've already captured them? But he forced it down as quickly as it surfaced. _No_. _Stay positive._

Carson, grinned. "Well, I'm no diplomat, but I do believe that we have something of value to them. Or, rather, someone."

* * *

John couldn't sleep. Too many things were flitting about in his brain, demanding immediate attention. He had neither the energy nor the inclination for deep thinking at that moment and wanted nothing more but to rest, but his mind had other plans and kept on going. 

On the other side of the bed, Rodney let out a loud snore. He didn't seem to be having the same problem.

Frustrated, John rose, wiping his face with his hands to erase the fatigue from his eyes, and went through a glass-paned door to the balcony outside. It adjoined via an identical door to the room where Elizabeth and Teyla were resting, and he peered through the closed curtain to see if Teyla wanted a break from watch, but there was no light or sound coming from within. As he stepped away, the door opened and Teyla appeared.

"Major. Is everything all right?"

"Yea. I can't sleep though. How's Elizabeth?"

Teyla glanced back into the bedroom, brushing her hair out of the way. "She is asleep. The medicines Harry prepared as a test are working well."

"A test?"

"I did not understand the details, but it seems he prepared the concussion aid as an...OWL exam?"

"And you're certain they're not dangerous?"

"Completely. I watched Harry prepare them. The ingredients are different, but they're harmless, and the principles behind them are nearly identical to those my people use."

"I didn't realize Athosian leaders had to be so versed in medicine."

"They typically aren't."

Her cryptic answer broke the stride of his conversation. He returned to his original reason for being there. "I'll take the rest of your watch if you'd like a break."

"Thank you, but that's not necessary. Truthfully, I too am preoccupied." She stepped outside, closing the door softly behind her. She walked to the edge of the balcony and peered into the distance, grasping the balcony wall. "Is this truly Earth?"

John looked up at the clear night sky. "Big Dipper, North Star, they're all in the right place. It's actually reassuring to see them."

"And yet not at the same time. This is still not the Earth you know."

"No, it's not. I guess none of us really do know much about our own planet. It was hard enough to put my head around the idea of the Stargate." John laughed at the thoughts springing up. Wizards were _real_!

He looked at her, waiting for a reply. She continued to stare at the forest on the other side of the grounds. "We all have secrets, Major. Why can't a planet?"

Teyla turned to face him. The moonlight softened her already graceful features, but her eyes were as all-seeing as an owl's.

"I must ask you. Why did you go after her?"

"What?" John thought his ears were deceiving him. How could she even ask that question?

"It was pure chance that brought us to Earth. We had a greater chance of landing on a planet where we could not survive."

"I guess." He couldn't deny her logic, but he didn't have to like it.

"You left Atlantis with no proper leader."

"Grodin'll be fine. Ford'll help him."

She glared at him. "Their burden is doubly so because they were not prepared. And, had Elizabeth died, I do not think she would have wanted you to risk your life so carelessly."

"Probably."

"Then _why did you do it?_"

John closed his eyes to the balcony and night sky, suddenly feeling thrown back in time.

"I know what it's like to be left behind," he finally answered, "I'll do anything to keep someone I care about from experiencing that."

Teyla took a moment to consider his reply. "I wish I had your bravery."

He shook his head, completely confused. "What? You're braver than anyone I know! Don't think like that, especially not tomorrow. We have to deal with teenagers!" he said, trying to lighten the mood.

She smiled. "How true."

They stood together outside in companionable silence until John yawned.

"Go to sleep, Major. I will keep watch until it is your turn."

"Are you sure?"

"Very." Her eyes seemed to stop watching him, as though they were now directed inwards. Teyla too, needed time to think, although John was starting to wonder if it was really their current situation that preoccupied her, or the echoes of old memories stirring, as they were in him.

He heard her begin to sing softly as he closed the door to his bedroom. The melody filled him with longing, and the words evoked images of endless travels in search of home.

* * *

Sergeant Marcus Lorne, flanked by two Marines, stepped through the event horizon and back into Atlantis. 

"Nothing?" Aiden stood at the top of Control's overly steep staircase, only half-realizing that he was copying a signature Weir habit, and that Marcus was now doing a Sheppard move. Marcus was a little stockier than Sheppard but had a similar boyish aura to him, although Marcus definitely acted a bit more maturely.

Lorne stopped at the base of the stair and nodded to his teammates that they could go change. "There's no sign of them there either."

"Damn." Aiden's stomach contracted another inch. Every time a team came back from their search empty-handed, it felt like someone was twisting his innards into an increasingly tight knot. The pressure was so great that he felt like he couldn't breathe properly.

"I can be ready to go to the next place in under thirty minutes," Marcus offered, picking up on his CO's disappointment.

Aiden shook his head. "No, I need you here. We're contacting the Genii next."

"Is that...wise?"

"I don't like the 'don't call us, we'll call you' plan."

"True, but why do you need me here?"

"Because I think you're smart. And I want you to help me keep an eye on our guest." Ford tapped his earpiece. "You can bring her in now."

A door on the lower level opened, and a Marine walked in, accompanying a young woman. She was short and had a head of gorgeously flawless blond curls that gave her an innocent aura until one considered the fact that she was handcuffed.

Aiden gestured for her to join him, and she climbed the stairs.

"Lieutenant Ford," she said without preamble.

"Sora." Even though he was now face to face with the would-be infiltrator, he still hadn't decided what to say to her. He certainly didn't trust her, but he would need some cooperation if they were going to get any valid information out of her people. Weir would've known what to say to her. Teyla could've kept her in line...

Much to his relief, Sora didn't seem to pick up on any of his insecurities, which to him might as well have been written on his forehead with red paint. Instead, she was scanning the Control Room's occupants. "Where's Major Sheppard and Dr. Weir?"

_Might as well take the plunge_. "There's been an accident." Aiden gave her a moment to digest this.

"Was Teyla involved?"

"He felt a surge of anger and did his best to quell it by channeling it into the conversation. "Yes. Does that make you happy?"

She blinked in surprise at his comment before giving him a scathing look. "I won't be losing any sleep if she is. She killed my father. She may have saved my life during the Storm, but she couldn't save him."

"Well, glad to know your sleeping habits won't be changing," Aiden snapped back as he walked away from the Genii soldier. He couldn't stand her attitude. "Dial the Gate!"

The Stargate's lights began to spin.

"Wait!"

Aiden hadn't intended to stop, but he did anyway, although he stopped short of turning around to face Sora again. He imagined that the look on her face was as equally pathetic as the strain in her voice, and equally false.

He heard her take a cautious step forward."Did my people have something to do with it? Is that why I'm here?"

Aiden looked at nothing, deliberating. He couldn't come to a proper decision but decided to go with the truth. It was better than being two-faced like the Genii. "That's what we intend to find out."

"How?" Sora demanded.

Ford ignored her as the connection to the Genii world established itself. "Genii homeworld, this is Lieutenant Aiden Ford of Atlantis. Please respond."

An audio-only signal responded. _Lieutenant? I must confess that I was not expecting your call._ Acastus Kolya's voice was laden with casual amusement. _I presume that your fair city survived the hurricane?_

"Sorry to disappoint you. I take it your survived the bullet to your shoulder?"

_It's recovering nicely, thank you. I'm touched by your concern._

"Don't get used to it, this isn't a social call."

_Is that so? In that case, I will only speak to Dr. Weir. Put her on._

Aiden gritted his teeth, annoyed with the ease Kolya was directing the conversation. "I'm afraid that's not possible. It has to-"

_No? What a shame. She's always so reasonable. I suppose I could speak to Major Sheppard instead._ The Genii commander laughed heartily.

"Focus. Don't let him piss you off," Marcus whispered. Aiden nodded and started repeating those words in his head like a mantra, knowing he was right. If he got angry, they would completely lose any chance of learning the easy way whether Sheppard and the others had wound up on the Genii's planet.

"Commander, I am contacting you to propose an exchange," he said, regaining his confidence.

There was another brief burst of static. _You can't have your supplies back._

"I don't want them. All I want is some information."

_I don't negotiate over the radio with amateurs. Besides, you don't have anything-_

"Commander!" Sora shouted as loudly as possible so her voice would carry through Aiden's microphone.

_Sora?_ Kolya's tone of voice was puzzling. He didn't sound at all happy to hear her voice. In the background, Aiden heard the murmurs of a hasty discussion that ended with Kolya resuming the conversation. _Put her on._

Reluctantly, Aiden allowed Sora to be brought to the nearest microphone, which was then tied into the transmission. "Commander," she repeated in a more composed fashion.

_Have you been mistreated?_

"No, I'm fine."

More murmurs continued in the background.

_Let's continue this conversation in person, Lieutenant. I don't like faceless conversations. I had my fill of them with Major Sheppard._

Aiden signaled for Sora's microphone to be cut off. "Fine by me. How about here?" He sent an image of an address from the list of worlds they had already searched.

_Acceptable. One hour. We will bring three people each. No weapons._

Aiden didn't bother to give a farewell. The gate shut off at his command, and then he let himself relax a little. One hurdle down, a million more to go. He supposed that he should feel some satisfaction for managing to set up a meeting, but all he felt was the growing frustration with his inexperience in matters of negotiation. And why did Sora-

"Why'd you do that?" he asked her. "I thought you were happy Teyla might be in trouble."

She looked away, chewing the inside of her lip. She looked completely lost, and for once Aiden was positive that he was truly seeing _her_ and not a facade.

"She saved my life. Now I've done my part to repay that debt," she finally said.

"Right."

As she was escorted out until they were ready to depart, she looked back at Aiden. "It's the truth!" she yelled.

"Do you believe her?" Marcus asked, watching her leave.

Aiden thought about it for a minute. "Partly. The Genii always seem to have one foot in truth and the other in lies. I don't think all her motives are pure though. Either way, she'll be gone soon enough."

Despite what he said about not trusting her, Aiden couldn't banish the image of the Genii soldier looking so honestly insecure from his mind.


	10. Inquisitive Minds Want to Know

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all of its appendages are copyright to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Stargate SG-1/A are copyright to MGM Studios, Gekko, and its cast and crew. References to other fandoms are absolutely intentional.

* * *

**Inquisitive Minds Want to Know**

They met roughly a kilometer away from the Stargate, weaponless and radios off at Kolya's insistence. The commander was already waiting when Aiden arrived with Marcus, Carson, and Sora in tow. Kolya looked as surly and imposing as ever, save for his left arm, which was bound securely in place. If he was in pain, there was no sign of it in his battle-hardened face, which retained its usual eerily detached look.

He was quick to continue his criticism of Aiden, playing on his insecurity. "We agreed that we would only bring three people," he complained.

"When you leave, you'll be the one with four people," Aiden answered. The two parties faced off.

"So." Kolya's coal-black eyes bored into Aiden's. "In exchange for Sora, what information do you want?"

"Dr. Weir and a number of others were involved in a gate accident. I want to know if they wound up on your world, or anywhere your people are aware of, and if so, whether you're willing to send them home. That's all."

"Hmm." Kolya broke ranks and started to casually pace. "And what makes you think the Genii are aware of their whereabouts?"

"Nothing. I'm exploring every possible avenue."

"Is that so? You're losing a rather valuable hostage over the mere _possibility_ that the Genii have what you need to know. Even if we did know, how can you be so sure we'd be inclined to help you?"

Kolya was fundamentally right; this was one thing Aiden had resigned himself into accepting before leaving to meet with him. "I'm willing to do this anyway in the interest of good relations. Her family and friends can appreciate our position. They want their loved one back, and we want ours. Besides, Dr. Weir has always believed-"

"As you said in our last conversation, Lieutenant, Dr. Weir is not in charge now. _You_ are. Tell me, what do _you_ want?

"What?"

Kolya smirked. "Weir's philosophy sounds wrong coming from you. You're not a diplomat, you're a man of action. You don't want to pursue an alliance with us. We've betrayed you, attacked your base! Why follow her policies?"

Aiden could hear his pulse throb loudly in his ears as guilt began to seep into his mind. He knew what he _didn't_ want; he didn't want to deal with the Genii. But what choice did he have? Either way, he felt dirty. He felt like he was betraying his friends for thinking this way.

Carson answered before Aiden could get past his guilty feelings. "Stop talking as though she's dead, unless you plan on volunteering some information!"

It was precisely what Aiden needed to hear. "Stop trying to play me. I want to find my friends, okay? So let's cut to the chase, Commander. Do you have any verifiable information as to their whereabouts? Are they on your planet?"

Kolya's smile vanished as he reverted to his mask. "The Genii have not encountered any of your people since the Storm, and none of them are on our planet" he replied, "now hand Sora over."

_Nothing_. It was somehow worse than knowing they were being held captive, but the Genii had kept their meager side of the bargain, and he was not about to go back on his out of spite. Aiden reached for the cuffs binding Sora and released them, but caught her wrist before she could join her former commander.

"How do you intend to let us verify this?" he asked.

Kolya stepped in front of Aiden and seized his hand, squeezing hard. Marcus and Carson were at his side within seconds to intervene, but not before the pressure on his hand forced Aiden to release Sora's. She stared at it, startled, before looking to Kolya for an explanation.

"That," the Genii said, taking a few steps back to rejoin the escort, "was not part of the bargain."

"_What_? Now just you hold on a second!" Carson pointed a finger at Kolya. He was practically shaking with anger, something that Aiden found downright shocking. He'd never seen the doctor so upset.

Kolya switched on his radio and murmured something to his companions before answering. "Doctor, surely you cannot expect me to give your people leave to come to our planet and do as they please."

"Aye, but I would at least expect..."

As Carson argued his case, Marcus stepped close enough to Aiden to whisper in his ear without the others hearing what he was saying.

"Sir, we've gotta go. Grodin just dialed here. He says we need to get back to Atlantis ASAP."

Aiden tilted his head slightly to one side so he could look at his fellow Lieutenant. "You didn't turn off your radio?"

Marcus smirked. "I don't take orders from enemy commanders, sir."

"Good point. What's the emergency?"

"I don't know, but it can't be good if he called us in the middle of this."

"Right." _So much for resolving this now. It figures_, he thought before raising his voice. "Doc! Forget it. We don't have time for his crap. Let's go."

"A wise choice, Lieutenant," Kolya said.

As he adjusted his cap and turned his radio back on, Aiden glared at him. "This isn't over, Kolya. Tell your people that."

He whirled around and stormed off without waiting to see if Carson and Marcus were following. Once he was out of sight of the Genii, he picked up the nearest rock and threw it as far as his frustration would take it.

* * *

"Go," Kolya said gruffly to his escort once Ford and his team were gone. The two men set off for the gate at a brisk pace, leaving Kolya and Sora alone.

Sora did try to fall into step behind them after briefly hesitating, but the commander slapped his free fist on her shoulder. "You do not have a warm welcome waiting for you," he said, "you disobeyed my orders and will have to face your punishment."

She looked away from the pair of Genii soldiers ahead that were slowly getting smaller in the distance. Her gaze was drawn, oddly enough in her opinion, to her hand- the one that Ford had held onto. "I made my choice. I do not expect anything different."

"Indeed. And now, I'm sure the choice to absolve yourself of any wrongdoing is the one you want to make."

Sora felt like her heart was stopping. She couldn't breathe. A pardon? But at what cost?

"What must I do?"

"Return to Atlantis with Ford and the others. Tell them the Genii, not I, send you as collateral until they realize that we do not have Dr. Weir or whoever else is missing."

He squeezed her shoulder tighter.

"Earn their trust. Get the city's command codes. Finish what we started. Or else you will face your penalty, and I will make sure it's the execution block for you."

So that was it. If she completed the mission, she was free of her death sentence. If she refused or failed, she was a good as dead. A soldier who failed to carry out an order more than once was as worthless and despicable as a Wraith to the Genii. Her people would make no exception for her.

"Go," Kolya repeated after she continued to be unresponsive, "Senil and Artrus are waiting to bring you to Ford."

There was no point debating the subject. Kolya released her, and she set off at a sprint, trying hard not to think too much about what she had to do. That could wait.

Sora quickly joined her countrymen and caught up to Ford's group just as they were waiting for the wormhole to stablilise.

"Wait!" Artrus called at the top of his lungs.

Sora jogged up to him and was happy to have to catch her breath, as it gave her time to decide what to say. "The others- not Kolya – made me come to surrender to you."

"Surrender?" Carson asked.

Senil nodded as he and Artrus arrived a few steps behind. "Commander Kolya was telling the truth when he said we don't know where Weir is. He may not want relations with Atlantis, but that's not his decision."

He gestured to Sora, taking her wrist and offering it to Ford. "She's your prisoner until you realize that."

Aiden just stared at her. Sora could tell he wasn't buying it. "And you're okay with that?" he asked.

"What do you think?" she replied sourly, hoping her discontent would be enough to convince them.

He continued to stare at her as if she'd just grown another set of ears before sighing in frustration. "We don't have time for this." He grabbed the handcuffs from Marcus and quickly cuffed her arms behind her. "If you want to stay locked up in a cell, that's fine by me. I'll figure out what this is _really_ about later!"

"The Genii appreciate your honesty," said Artrus, inclining his head a little.

"Hah! That's rich coming from you," Aiden answered as he pushed Sora on ahead through the wormhole. She looked back at her comrades just before stepping into the event horizon. The look of warning they gave her was unmistakable.

Don't fail.

On the other side, Atlantis was filled with frenzied activity. People were rushing in every direction or clustered together in anxious-looking groups.

Aiden handed Sora off to the nearest stationary officer. "Please escort Sora back to her cell," he said as he scanned the room, looking for someone.

"Peter!" he called once he found who he was looking for, "what's going on?"

Grodin practically flew down the stairs to meet Aiden. "We just got long range sensors up and running."

"That's it? What's the emergency?"

The soldier now escorting her tugged at her arm. "If you'll come with me, ma'am?"

Reluctantly, Sora obeyed, as much as she wanted to stay and hear what was going on. What emergency?

As she was forced out of earshot, Grodin answered the question. "We've detected a Wraith Hive ship on an intercept course. It'll be here within two weeks."

* * *

John smoothed down the front of his brand new robe. It was a similar shade of grey to his usual uniform, and he was sure it was five sizes too big despite Dumbledore's assurances that the sizing was quite correct.

"Is it supposed to flow everywhere like this?" he asked, rolling his sleeves up to expose his arms while they walked through what had to be the strangest set of staircases he had ever seen in his life. Not only was everything old, ornate, and complicated, but everything, from the stairs to the people in the paintings, was _moving_.

Elizabeth, clad in a similar robe made of soft red fabric, pulled his sleeves back to their original level. "You look fine!" Her broken arm was now in perfect working order and only a little sore (if she had told John the truth), and the only sign that she had recently been injured was a reddish tinge to the skin where her injuries had been.

"She's right! Never saw such a handsome silhouette before!" an ancient-looking witch in a painting said cheerfully. Both Elizabeth and John briefly froze in place. They still weren't used to all the oddities.

Dumbledore was leading the way through the castle to the 'Great Hall', where he said they could eat before adjourning to his office to sort out the issues in smuggling them out of the wizarding world, and whatever clues about its exact connection to the Stargate that could be found. Teyla, wearing a green robe of the same design as Elizabeth's, looked the most comfortable in the long, flowing clothing that Hogwarts' headmaster insisted they wear. McKay kept lifting the front of his black robe like a skirt in order to keep from stepping on it.

"I can't believe we have to wear these!" he groaned.

"Come on, McKay," John teased, "we're undercover. Anthropologists do this all the time."

"I'm not an anthropologist. I'm a theoretical physicist!"

"You would do best not to mention that in the Hall," Dumbledore reminded him, "Remember, your best defense now is to remain _hidden in the open_. If I keep you away from the students, they will know something very strange is going on. As long as you all keep appearances and not say things like 'theoretical astrophysicist', they will be more likely to adapt to your presence without questioning my explanation and less likely to mention anything suspicious to their families."

"Speaking of disguises and all that, should we have fake names or something?" John asked as he skipped a particular step after seeing Dumbledore do so. McKay failed to notice and tripped.

"Seeing as most of you are strangers to the public eye, I don't believe that will be necessary save for you, Doctor," he answered, looking at Elizabeth, "your name might be familiar to some parents. May I suggest you pretend that your surname is Swan?"

"Elizabeth Swan?" Elizabeth repeated.

John laughed, liking the old man better each minute. "I didn't take you for a movie fan, Professor. But isn't that a tad obvious?"

Dumbledore led them down the final stretch of hallway and up the last set of stairs to an impossibly tall pair of double doors, where he stopped and turned around.

"Is that name really used in a film? _That's interesting._" His blue eyes twinkled with amusement before he gave them all a stern look.

"Try not to act so surprised at what you see. _You must appear to be one of us_. Most of the people in that room are not adults, but they are far more perceptive than we give them credit for."

With that, he threw the doors open and walked purposely down the center of the hall. John and the others followed, past the four long tables where all the students were sitting, to the raised table at the end. Four places were set on the right side of the centre, where Dumbledore sat down.

He knew he wasn't supposed to act shocked by anything in the room, but John couldn't help but gape at _everything_, from the plain black robes the students were wearing, to the missing ceiling (did the walls just melt away?), to the line of teachers at the table where they were all about to sit. He nodded to the adults politely and helped Elizabeth to her seat before taking his own.

"We have with us today," Dumbledore said, his voice projecting throughout the room, which fell silent as he spoke, "a party of witches and wizards from the United States, whose faulty Portkey accidentally brought them to the Forbidden Forest last night instead of their destination. I trust that you will all treat Mr. Sheppard, Miss Swan, Mr. McKay, and Miss Emmagan with the respect you would give to your own teachers, and make them feel welcome in our school, where they will be staying until arrangements are made for their departure."

The headmaster sat down, and John scanned the room for reactions as conversations picked up again. Everyone was definitely curious about the strange Americans, but there were was only a few suspicious looks scattered across the four tables, particularly from the sallow-faced young man with hair so blond that it was white. _That must be Draco Malfoy_. He noticed Harry and his friends at the table underneath the gold and red banner, when Harry caught his eye, the kid grinned.

"Aren't you going to eat, John?" Elizabeth asked as casually as she could. It was only then that John looked back at the table and realized that it was now laden with all sorts of breakfast food to choose from: eggs, toast, potatoes, bacon, and-

"This coffee is great!" McKay exclaimed before settling down to eat his very large serving of food. Teyla seemed to stick to the fruit.

John laughed and started to help himself. He spent as much time eating as possible, as this meant less time talking and answering delicate questions.

For the next half hour, the four of them worked together to maintain the charade, but it wasn't as hard as John had expected. He suspected that Dumbledore had somehow convinced his staff not to ask too many questions. He eventually sneaked a glance at his watch and smiled. Only fifteen more minutes before classes started and most of the prying eyes left. 

"I take it you didn't run into the Centaur herd when your Portkey dropped you in the forest?" a professor who was as short as a midget asked him.

"...No," he replied.

"I thought so, or you wouldn't be here in one piece! You're very lucky, they don't tolerate trespassers on their land."

John relaxed and grinned, happy that he had answered the question passably. "I thought so too."

He was filling up his third serving of breakfast (the eggs and bacon were just too damn good), when the double doors flew open with a loud bang, startling the students closest to them and putting John on edge.

A squat woman wearing a pastel-pink cloak with short, curly, and overly coiffed hair charged up the Hall towards the table. "Dumbledore!" she yelled in a high-pitch voice. As she got closer, John couldn't help but notice her pug nose and overly matronly attire.

Unsure of what to make of this new arrival, he looked at Harry for some sort of queue. Harry met his eyes and gave him a panicked look, shaking his head. _Not good!_ he mouthed.

John glanced at Teyla and McKay, who were schooling their faces into curious indifference, and then to Dumbledore, looking past Elizabeth's neutral expression. Hers matched Dumbledore's the most as he rose from his seat to greet the woman.

"Dolores, what a pleasant surprise. Would you like to join us for breakfast?"


End file.
